If I Hadn't Known You Before
by Sunshine-M
Summary: The biggest what if? Daryl and Merle left the quarry before Rick came back from the dead. Later down the road, Daryl has joined the Marauders. See how his and Carol's paths cross again. TW for abuse and mature themes including allusion to non con
1. Chapter 1

Daryl looked around him, wondering how he had come to be here.

The claimers or marauders, as they called themselves, were all in all five copies of who Merle had been when they were drifters. They thought that this way of living was something they could keep on doing.

Daryl was not convinced, but there was safety in numbers, especially when the people wanting to do you harm were flesh eating monsters. He briefly thought back to the quarry, where despite being ill-equipped for this world they all lived in, there had been good people. There had been kids though, and they made you weak. They needed protection and it meant becoming vulnerable yourself. The kids at the quarry had been nice kids though. Nowadays, you didn't get to see kids especially with the company he had been keeping, and he found that he missed those.

When Merle had told him about leaving them behind because they were dead weight and things were bound to go south, Daryl had followed with a completely different reasoning. They had a chance, those people, perhaps, to make it. Even if they lost some of their own, they were not from the same world he was, not cut from the same fabric and Daryl had felt like he would never belong. They might value him for his hunting skills but they would never really trust him. You needed trust in an apocalypse. That was why he had gone with his brother, and had left them all behind. They had run, for a long time, only trusting one another. They had stayed on the road for over a year, sometimes forming alliances only to drop out of those the moment they stopped working in their favor. They had kept on running, from place to place, gang to gang. They had avoided communities, such as Woodbury, even though Merle had considered joining. His brother had been seduced by the charisma the leader exhibited, but Daryl hadn't been convinced. Either he was just what he appeared to be, which didn't make him fit to run a group, or he was full of shit and they would be the ones to end up walker bait. Since they hadn't entered the Woodbury zone, and had only run into the guy who called himself the Governor while on the run, declining his offer had been easy, but Daryl had a feeling in his guts that if they had knocked on the door of the structure, it would have been a whole different story.

They had travelled wherever the wind took them and had heard tales of a place, Terminus, but they never went there or were even interested in it. If it was a community as some of the signs suggested, he and Merle would be more vulnerable than safe. The people they had encountered, shared a campsite with for a night here and there would call it a haven, having apparently immense hopes for it. However, was there was such thing as a safe place anymore? Daryl had been reticent, and now that he was with the Marauders, he felt validated: the signs were still there, but no one was talking about it anymore, it was eerie. You never encountered someone who had been to Terminus.

A few weeks back, Daryl's world had shifted entirely when his brother and he had been surrounded by walkers and he had found himself separated from Merle. Daryl didn't want to think about the fact that he would probably never see his brother again, or he would have already. After that rude awakening, he had been alone, for the first time in a long time, and he hadn't known how long he could make it on his own.

Meeting the marauders and becoming one of them was something he had done because they reminded him so much of his brother. That, and the fact that they had gun power.

He was no fool, though, and he knew all the ways they could never be like Merle. Apart from the same rough appearance, they were his opposite. Merle had principles, even though he'd have died before admitting it. These guys, not so much.

Ever since he had been with the marauders, there had been no other groups to share a fire with. Joe's men… Their lack of principles, and the way they saw everything as bounty and everyone as prey was obvious from the way they behaved. If Joe hadn't been there when he had encountered the rest of them, Daryl wasn't sure he would have been invited to join. Something in his guts was telling him he would have ended up dead, with one of those assholes sporting his crossbow. He was not happy with having had to join them, but so far he had kept his integrity, his principles, but he dreaded the time they would encounter a situation where the marauders would show they were as feral as they looked and he would want no part of it. This was a temporary arrangement for him, until something better came along, if something better came along.

In some ways, it didn't make sense to Daryl. Sure, no one was perfectly groomed or clean, this was the Apocalypse, the end of days and all that, but it felt like the marauders went the extra mile to make sure they would scare the shit out of anybody unlucky enough to cross their path. They were opportunistic but seemed to have missed the fact that deception would work better in their favor than just plain honesty, which broadcasted that they were nothing more than scavengers. Perhaps it was for the best, Daryl pondered. He could barely imagine the massacres the marauders would commit if they were allowed in the vicinity of unknowing people.

"Dixon, get your ass in gear," Joe yelled, and Daryl realized he had slowed down. They were in a small town and so far the walkers had been a no show. They picked a house and started cleaning it for the night. For once, they were quiet instead of the ruckus they usually made. As they were trying to find a place to sleep, it made little sense to attract walkers. Everything was done in silence, everybody knew their place.

As he watched out one of the windows which would need barricading, Daryl thought he saw something, someone alive but he never had the opportunity to act on that thought. Len and Harley had seen it too, and they ran to the other house where the person had been. Matthew, a new drifter, followed them and Joe went outside the house, waiting to see what his men had caught. There were screams, mostly from Len, and grunting. Daryl was rushing to get there and see what was happening, knowing the marauders were capable of the worst. Whoever it was, they had to have the most rotten luck in history, Daryl thought remembering his previous thoughts about how the marauders were just vultures who did their own killing. He found himself afraid, wondering if this would be the breaking point, if he would be strong enough to not let them do whatever they would do, or if he would be their bitch. Merle's taunts rung in his ears and he promised himself whoever it was that had found themselves at the mercy of Joe's group, he would fight for them anyway he could.

"Let me go!" He heard a woman say, and his blood pumped through his veins as he tried to rush to her rescue. He didn't think, just did, but Joe grabbed him and kept him next to him. Daryl wanted to push him away but he had no choice but to obey to the silent command.

Seconds later, the men came out of the house, beaten bloody but dragging along a screaming and kicking woman with them. She was enraged, and kept trying to take a bite out of them, or more.

"Joe, see what I found?" Len yelled.

Daryl saw her take a look at the situation, before taking a good shot at Len's ankle with her boot. He yelled, but the others held her in place. Daryl saw her face, and with one word he changed the game for them all.

"Claimed."


	2. Chapter 2

The moment the word had left his lips he saw everything at once: the way the marauders looked at him like he had spoiled their fun, the way some of them were looking to Joe for a ruling on that one, and the way the woman looked at him like she was seeing a ghost.

He saw it all. He knew what had been about to happen. There would have been no claiming, just sharing of their catch. They would have raped her and left her for dead, or maybe even killed her. It was clear as day and he found himself hoping that Joe wouldn't overrule his claim. He couldn't take them all on by himself, but he couldn't let them abuse a woman he knew had already known so many shades of black and blue.

He remembered her from the quarry, her and her little girl. He remembered that fat assed husband of hers, too, an abusive coward who Daryl had wanted to beat repeatedly but didn't. Once you got involved, things got complicated. If he was honest, one of the reasons why he had left with Merle so fast was because he couldn't stand to stay near people who got beat up and not be able to do anything, while knowing anything he would do would make things worse.

But she was alone now, or he prayed she was. If her girl was with her, then Daryl could only hope she would remain hidden. Everybody knew that Dan liked them young, preferably boys, but he wasn't so fussy at these end of days.

"Well, that's a new one," Joe said, looking at Daryl, wide-eyed with surprise. "We don't usually claim people."

"New or not, I'm claiming her."

Daryl was keeping his face straight as if he was playing poker. Joe had not become the leader at random, he picked up things. However Daryl was good at keeping his tells in check, years of living with Merle and Daddy dearest and all that. There was no way he could let Joe see that he knew the woman. He could tell the leader had probably noticed the way she looked at him, and it was up to him to make it seem like she was just surprised at being "claimed".

As expected, Joe took a long hard look at him, trying to figure him out, something he hadn't been able to do so far. Many thoughts crossed Joe's face but Daryl couldn't pick up on the dominant one. He just knew this was not an easy sell, yet Daryl was selling as hard as he could.

"Why?"

Daryl looked at the leader, like he owed him no answer, but the truth was, he couldn't really explain where this had been coming from, and why it became much more important as time went by, for her to be safe under his care and away from the brutes he was travelling with. He couldn't tell Joe that, and gave him a look. It was a tricky look but when played well the person looking at you would read whatever they wanted to read on your face. It had been useful in the Dixon household to be able to pull that off. Jos had a smirk and Daryl was certain Joe had concluded that he was claiming her for purely sexual reasons. That was okay with him, he could live with that. He just wanted her safe, and what a funny feeling that was.

They had never been friends, and human charity might have been a thing before, but this was the end of the world and he barely knew her. She had been this mousy person who didn't dare speak to him at the quarry but when he would look at her, he would see something, kindred spirits recognizing one another. It stuck with him, even though he never knew it did.

Carol, he remembered in a flash. That was her name.

The Carol he had known had been shy and helpful, afraid to be in anybody's way. He was willing to bet she'd never held a gun to protect her own, and she had been what Merle would have derisively called "dead weight".

The woman before him now was a world away from that version of her. Gone were the pastel-looking clothes that made her invisible, and so was the mousy attitude of the woman who was too used of being yelled at, who would cower in the shadow of the threat of violence. The most impressive, and unsettling change about her were her eyes. He could still see the old her somewhere in there but there were shadows and she looked like she was hunted by what had happened to make her so. She used to be soft, like a doe, but today she looked like the hunter who had nothing to lose she seemed to have become. She was a warrior now and she was showing it by fighting her aggressors, even though they had gotten her good. She was wearing cargo pants and leather as well as a belt which had to have held a knife and a gun at least before the marauders searched her. Daryl noticed an AK-47 on the side they seemed to have pried from her grip. The transformation was amazing yet it didn't stop there. Her skin, which had looked so fragile and had marked so easily before at the quarry, now radiated with strength and determination. Daryl was sure she would still bleed and bruise and more, but there was something about her. Everything that used to be soft and vulnerable about her was gone. He didn't know if it was the will to live that made her so or perhaps the feeling that there was nothing left to lose. He was too familiar with the latter.

Her eyes met his and he wondered what had happened, and what she had gone through to have morphed into a completely different person since he had last seen her. For a second, he wondered what she thought of him, and what was going through her head. He was not proud of the company he was keeping but pragmatically he stood by his choice. He hoped she didn't believe he had done a 180 and become like them but then again she had not known him at all, back at the quarry. He hated the thought that she could believe he had found his pack of wolves. The marauders were a pack but he was just using them for a while or so he told himself. He hoped she could see that, or sense that. Kindred spirits and all that, he thought as he wondered why those words kept on coming back to him to describe their almost nonexistent relationship from before.

She was still on the floor, and he noticed that Harley and Matthew had managed to tie her hands behind her back. They lifted her up roughly and got her back on her feet, as Len actually fucking wept about his ankle. The fact that some people had survived this far never ceased to surprise Daryl.

"Claiming her gear, too," Daryl added.

"Now that's going too far!" Dan exclaimed.

"It is indeed," Joe said.

"No it ain't. I get her and her gear, 'cause I'll need to keep an eye on her. She's my responsibility and I have to make sure she doesn't kill us all."

"I suppose that make sense," Joe conceded, thoughtfully. "She is your responsibility indeed then, Daryl. If anything happens to one of us because of her, you'll pay the price. She will, too."

Daryl didn't like the gleam in Joe's eyes as if he was counting on Carol trying something so that they could reverse his claim. He told himself he wouldn't let it happen.

"You'll need to feed her, she doesn't get a share of our rations."

Carol was glaring daggers at everybody, but Daryl had a feeling she was also looking for a way out. This would only get her killed. He went to her, and grabbed her by the arm.

"Which house are we settling in?" he asked Joe.

"You and the lady can have the one they found her in, we'll reconvene at first light to go on."

Harley and Matthew picked Len up, and Daryl moved toward the house they had just found Carol in.

He made her sit on a chair in the living room, away from anything she could use to get herself free, and he went to the kitchen. He needed a minute. He had claimed her. Now what?

He couldn't let her go, that was for sure. But to keep her captive? Even he was not that much of an asshole.

He went back to the living room and sat in front of her. They were strangers, yet they had a connection, a life lived at one point.

"Can't untie you", he said.

It felt like the most pressing matter, because it was true.

"You can, but you won't," she corrected him, and he was hit by flashbacks of the quarry and the little time he had spent there. "You claimed me?" She said and he could see the rebellion brewing in her eyes.

He nodded, and could see she wanted more of an explanation, but he was suddenly very ashamed of the way he had lived lately.

"It's how this thing work. We claim things, call dibs, whatever. I claimed you so that you couldn't be claimed by another one of those assholes."

She didn't look too convinced, then again, what did he know? She was a new woman, and he had no intel on who she was.

"So I'm staying tied? And I suppose it's for my own safety?"

"It is."

If any of the others came in and saw her walking around, assuming she stayed, they would freak out. If she left, it would be even worse.

"Where's your daughter?" he asked.

He needed to know, if he was to protect her.

There was a look in her eyes, brief, that she tried to conceal and it annoyed him. He was trying to help, couldn't she tell?

"Why do you care?" she asked.

"Dan likes 'em young—mostly boys but he won't say no to a girl. "

Words were harsh, perhaps too harsh, but there was no playing around with the truth when it was so ugly.

"She's buried somewhere in Georgia, on a farm that used to be lovely. That filthy pig won't be able to tarnish her," she said, swallowing heavily like it was bile she was fighting to keep down.

He didn't think he'd noticed the girl that much, only had known she existed, but in a flash, he saw her playing with the boy, what was his name again? He saw her picking daisies, and staying away from her father whenever she could. He remembered the way she would sometime shake in anticipation of her father's disapproval.

Oh, there had been a Turn, alright, but horror had existed long before that.

"Your husband?" he pushed.

"Dead. So dead. Dead as you can be."

"Are you alone?"

She gave him a look that made him feel stupid, but he fought it. There could be people with her, hiding somewhere.

"Are you alone?" she echoed and there was a glint in her eyes like she couldn't believe it, yet she didn't want to let him know and get the upper hand in this confrontation of theirs.

The answer was no, or it should have been, but the look in her eyes, he knew what it meant. She was asking about his brother. He had hit her where it hurt, unknowingly, and she was fighting back.

"Lost, somewhere else, can't vouch for nice or decent," was all he said.

It was all he could say. Merle had been a shit brother, and a barely decent person according to the world's standards, but he'd been all he had. Merle didn't deserve his memory to be tainted. When he had been alive, he had already carried many scars, flesh and else, from their family, from his time in the army, from his time in the system. He had paid his pound of flesh. Daryl didn't want another pound to be collected when his brother was supposed to not be in pain anymore. How he wished Merle was still around, but the way they had been ambushed forced him to think of him as dead.

Daryl didn't believe in Heaven, oh Hell no. However, thinking of her little girl, and his brother, he hoped there was a place, for abused children, for people who had suffered, so that they could lay down their burden and do whatever you did when you were dead. Funny, huh? He didn't believe in the afterlife. Once you were dead, you were food for worms, that was what he had always said and believed. Yet, he hoped for a place for a girl he had barely known, and a brother he hadn't known much better either.

Carol looked grieved, and he didn't know what to make of it. He didn't need her pity, he only needed her to play along.

He wondered what had gone through his head when he had claimed her. Yes, he knew what would have happened, but still. Why? Who was he? Who was she? Things had happened so fast, he felt like he was only catching up to what he had done and his brain was barely computing what he had done.

His life was supposed to be simple, hanging out with the marauders until it was time to go.

"What happens next?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

And he wondered the same.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, he made them dinner with the food she had stored. He tied one of her hands to the chair and gave her a spoon to feed herself with, saving her from the shame of having to be spoon fed by anybody.

This was not Carol from the quarry.

When they were done, he arranged his mat on the floor, and then hers, making sure she could see him handle her weapons. It was a point he felt needed to be made as he had told Joe: she was his responsibility and her gear had become his. It felt wrong to deprive someone of their freedom but he didn't trust the others not to be waiting for her escape to have their chance with her. He didn't know what to do, in order to prevent her from escaping.

"I don't suppose you'd let me swear I won't run out tonight?" she said, with a bitter look.

"Sure, 'cause I'm an idiot like that. You'd run out in the morning, having kept your promise and making a fool out of me."

She had a smirk even though he was clearly seeing through her act.

"Pick a position to sleep in," he told her. "And no funny business."

He showed her a spot very near to the one she would be occupying, and it was clear that he would be able to grab her if she intended anything. He saw something in her eyes, a brief flash of fear tainted with annoyance and he wondered how she was doing with this whole "claimed" thing. She hid her feelings well, but there was something in the way she looked around when she thought he wasn't looking that made it clear she was ready to bolt. He couldn't expect her to trust him, he sure knew he wouldn't in her place. Yet he tried his best, to be firm and dangerous but fair. He hoped she could see that.

"Pick a position," he repeated.

Begrudgingly, she did so. When she was in place he used the rope with which he had retied her after dinner, and made an intricate knot so that she wouldn't be able to leave, even if she wanted to.

"Here," he said. "Don't try anything, I'll know."

The smallest noise would wake him up and he had made it so she would need to cause lots of noise to escape. He laid on his mat, and closed his eyes.

Carol spent the first hour or so thinking of ways to get out of the knots he had tied around her hands. The man was a hunter, and he had skills there but she had hoped that her years as being a prey would have given her a way out. No luck there.

She then looked at him and saw a twitch in his cheek, and a tremor somewhere near his hip that would tend to indicate he was faking sleep. How appropriate. What where they, two idiots playing a stupid game in the dark?

However, she didn't want to call him out on it. She closed her eyes and pretended along, if only to keep the status quo going just a bit longer.

Her life had been shattered, once again, she thought. She was supposed to be on her way, but getting "claimed" or whatever they wanted to call, it hadn't been in the cards. She called herself an idiot. Of course she hadn't planned on getting caught but this, this just went beyond and took the cake, being captured by Daryl from the quarry. When the others had come inside the house, she had managed to hide most of her things and she had tried to hide herself, but one of them, the one whose ankle she broke, had seen something in the dark where she had been hiding and she had been caught.

She wished she could say it had been the scariest time of her life, but it wasn't. It came a close second, though. It didn't take a degree in psychology to see that those people were the very definitions of trouble and evil. She had fought, used her fists and her claws, tried to bite them but to no avail. They had carried her out of the house, too happy about their discovery of her to think about ransacking the place. When she had spotted Daryl, it had felt like an out of body experience. She had seen herself being manhandled and then she had heard him call out his claim on her. She had seen herself still fighting, but part of her had been gone, so far away.

He was a ghost from her past. They hadn't been in the same community for a very long time, but she remembered him and his loud brother. She remembered the way the latter used to treat his younger brother, like he was a burden he had to carry around when Daryl could hold his own. Many nights he had provided the camp with food to eat when Merle had been too busy trying to sweet talk in his very special way Andrea. The two brothers had been like day and night, though which was which remained to be determined. She just knew Daryl had participated when Merle had only ever done so when he needed something. They hadn't fit, but Merle had taken the cake. He had been on his worst behavior more often than not. Carol wondered how much the group's attitude toward the Dixon brothers had shaped their way of interacting all together. She wondered if Daryl had provided for them because he had wanted to make a gesture, or out of habit, having been a hunter before the world had gone to shit, and needing something to remind him of what used to be. At least, she thought he had been a hunter. Lord knew he had been handy with his crossbow

Then one morning, they had been gone, and Lori's husband had come back Lazarus style. The two hillbillies had soon been forgotten, or maybe just pushed out of mind as they were out of sight when they had more pressing problems to deal with. She had wondered what had happened to them, especially to Daryl. She had seen the way he sometimes looked at her husband, and at Sophia, and she had known instinctively that he knew what was going on. She had known then he was a survivor, and she had wondered if she would get to be one, too, and if her daughter would have a future.

Carol forced herself to breathe evenly, to maintain the illusion of sleep, but her heart was breaking again and again. Rick coming back to camp had been a big event, but what had followed had been even bigger. Ed had gotten bit and eaten in bits, along with many of their campmates. She should have felt free but she hadn't. She remembered that morning when they were disposing of the bodies, making sure nobody came back from the dead and she saw again in her head the way Shane had pierced her husband's skull. He had looked at her, like he was doing something she should thank him for, and maybe he had, but it had left her with a feeling of not having seen things through. IT had felt in a way too similar to when he had beaten Ed into a bloody pulp. The intent was good she supposed but he had ignored everything that came with it, like the fact that he wouldn't always be around to protect her from him, or that she would still need to live with her husband. She knew he had meant to do her a favor, but it hadn't felt freeing or liberating. Even when the others dumped Ed into a shallow grave, she still had felt his influence over her. He had ruled her life for too long for her to simply shake his hold off. Sometimes she had dreamt about bashing in his dead skull, before the burial, in order to be proactive and not passive as she had been forced to be, but what would it have changed really? A lot, she supposed.

It should have been the start of a new life, but an encounter with a herd of walkers had been quick to remind her that nothing in life ever went fairly, that there always was tit for tat. Sophia had disappeared, chased by walkers, and Carol had found herself crying and dying inside, even more than when she had been abused. They were supposed to be free...

They had ended up at the Greene Estate, and the others had been so worried about making this settlement permanent that they had forgotten to look for her daughter. She had told Rick she wanted a gun, and that she wanted to go look for her baby, and he had looked ashamed of his oversight. She didn't care for his shame, she only wanted Sophia back. They had started going on runs and she had learnt to shoot, and to use a knife against a walker as her heart hardened and hardened. At camp, she would hear Hershel preaching about the walkers being people they knew, but they weren't anymore. At best, they were people they used to know. The CDC had made that clear. You didn't come back and there was no reasoning with you after you turned.

Then the barn secret had come out, and Carol had gotten this sick feeling in her stomach. One by one the walkers had flowed out, and the group had started shooting them dead, for good. She hadn't been able to partake, overcome with a sense of doom that had made no sense, not until her precious baby had stumbled out of the barn. Except it wasn't her baby anymore, and it was obvious it hadn't been in a while. She remembered vaguely people looking at her, waiting for her to crash and burn, and she also remembered telling Shane to hold his fire. She should have protected her daughter, like she had done when they had been living with Ed, but she had failed, and she had known in her bones what she needed to do.

She had gotten Rick's weapon, and begging for forgiveness, she had shot a bullet in the monster who was inhabiting her little girl's body. She could still smell the gunpowder and the way the shot had rung in her ears, so loud. She was certain it hadn't been so loud for the others around, but to her it had felt like a canon going off. Sometimes she wondered how she had managed to do it, to get Rick's gun, and shoot her baby. She remembered being determined not to let the darkness linger in Sophia's body a second longer but she also remembered the desperation. The realization that her baby would never come back had doomed on her but not as hard as the fact that she needed to act. She had cried, as the walkers came out, and as her daughter's shell came out. She had fallen on the floor the moment the deed had been done, crying harder than ever, asking the heavens why they had inflicted that on her. She never asked herself though if it had been the right move or if she should have let someone kill the girl walker. She had been her baby, and it had been her responsibility as her mother to make sure Sophia was finally free, no matter how painful it had been. Heartbreak didn't even begin to cover it.

Carol tried to roll over, feeling the press of tears behind her eyelids and not wanting Daryl to see them. He already had the upper hand, whatever that meant, he couldn't witness her grief, too. She needed some things to remain her own. He could have her AK47, and her knife, and her other guns, but this grief, it was hers and hers only.

Lori had tried to be there for her, but she had been dealing with her own drama and Carol had been left alone with bad dreams as her life had already turned into a nightmare. She had gone into automatic mode, taking care of her fellow survivors, making sure dinner was on the table so to speak, and that they had what they needed. Maggie Greene, bless her heart, had been there, and even though she never managed to say what Carol needed to hear, or said the wrong things entirely, having someone acknowledge the hell she was going through had given her some slight relief. What had happened to Sophia was on her, but there was someone who could relate, having had to metaphorically pull the trigger on someone she had loved in that fucking barn. They never mentioned it explicitly, but Maggie giving Glenn the go ahead when her mother had come out of the barn had been soul crushing for the young woman, in more ways than one.

Months had gone by, it had been a blur, Shane had gotten killed by Carl after trying to off Rick, and then there had the mass herd, and they had been on the road. The prison had looked like a haven for all of five minutes before T-Dog died in order to save her, and Lori had died giving birth to her perfect daughter. Carol remembered too vividly the days she had spent in that cell where she had locked herself, trying to survive, not because she wanted to but because T-Dog deserved better than to have her give up. There had been ghosts in that cell. Sometimes Ed would appear to her, and be his former despicable self taunting her with her failures. Sophia had appeared, too, though never when her father was around. She had never said anything, just looked at her mother with her doll in her arms and Carol had wept. She had gotten weaker and weaker until one day, Lilah, her younger sister had appeared. Lilah had been the crazy daughter in the Miller family, and she had killed herself in a parachute accident. It had been years since Carol had allowed herself to think of her. Ed had forbidden her to attend her funeral, saying her sister had it coming and he didn't care for appearances. He only wanted his dinner on the table at 7PM on the dot.

Lilah appearing had been everything. Sophia had looked so much like this aunt she had never met, Carol had suddenly gotten a glimpse of who her daughter could have become if luck had been on their side. Lilah had told her that she was still alive, and that she owed them, to both her and Sophia to survive. Lilah had said that no one would be coming, and that it was up to her, to make them proud, to be the survivor and the strong woman she should have been all along. Back when she was married to Ed, Carol had often had the feeling that her sister had gotten especially reckless, or maybe just adventurous, as if she was trying to live for her older sister by proxy.

So, with Lilah cheering on, before she disappeared when Carol finally opened the door of her cell, Carol came out and re-entered the world. Having taken a leaf from Rick's book, she had covered herself in walker gut coming out, so that she would stand a chance in hell to make it back to the others.

The days she had spent in that cell had changed so many things. Carol always wanted to be of help, and take care of the people she cared for. Sure, they had thought she was dead and hadn't come for her, but when she had reappeared, they had taken her back in right away. As Maggie had helped her wash the guts from her skin, she had said something, about Carol having more lives than a cat. She had grabbed her hand and told Carol, "and I'm glad for it".

So Carol had carried on. Lori's death... It was another thing she was not done grieving for. She kept on being herself, she kept on helping when she could, and she took turns watching the prison. She told Andrea to kill the Governor, knowing too well how a charismatic man could turn into a monster in the blink of an eye, if he was not one to begin with. She had met Michonne, Tyreese, Sasha and the rest. She had made room in her heart for them, she had made it her business to help when she could. If they didn't have each other, then what did they have really?

She had learned the hard way a lesson she had thought she already knew. Trying to protect her new family from the disease spreading, she had killed Karen and David, throwing a piece of her soul in the pyre she lit their bodies on. Rick banished her for it, taking her out of the prison to do it, then leaving her behind. If one part of her understood what he was trying to say or to do, the rest of her had been crushed. She had given them everything that was left of her, and it hadn't been enough. She had sat on the council while Rick played farmer, she had trained the children, hoping to give them a chance her Sophia hadn't had, and in the end, she had been left alone, in the middle of nowhere, in the midst of the Apocalypse, at the mercy of this new world.

Carol carried no hate for Rick. She had been angry the first days, but the guilt in her had decided that he had done what he thought was fair, as she had, and their visions had clashed too much for them to be able to stay at the prison together. He had a baby and a teen boy who was growing up day after day. Her leaving made sense. It was exile too, she was only too aware. It was a wound she carried with her, another one.

She had decided to travel North of Georgia, hoping to finally see her sister's tomb. She needed a purpose, otherwise she would have been dead. She had traveled, and gotten to this little town, who had been infected-free, but not danger-free. And now here she was.

The woman she had been back at the quarry had been swept away, and the woman she had been at the prison had burnt away alongside the bodies of the sacrifices she had made for the safety of the group. She was a lone wolf, surviving on her own, trying to make it one day at a time until she got to see her sister's grave and she would find herself a new goal. She had thought about going back to the quarry, to finally face Ed or his grave and say her piece to the man who had been a coward and a tyrant, making her life hell

She opened one eye and saw that Daryl was still sleep-pretending. She wondered if she could trust him. The company he kept... Yet, at the same time, the abused bond was still strong, and she didn't know if it was fate playing another trick on her or if they were there.

She felt like she was supposed to react differently and to be different period, but so many things had happened in these past few years. She felt anger when she thought about how close she had been to Lilah's grave. She didn't resent Daryl, only herself, for allowing herself to be caught. It felt like Ed all over again, but Daryl was not Ed, and she was not that woman anymore. She didn't know why she trusted the hunter but she did. She wondered if he was expecting her to cry, to beg for her life. Part of her wondered if he meant to abuse her sexually as he had hinted when speaking with his leader, but their evening together seemed to prove that was not in the cards, for which she was grateful. He had had the opportunity to rape her and hadn't, making sure she was safe instead no matter how much she hated his method. He had cooked and talked. Daryl from the quarry hadn't been a talker. This version of Daryl was no chatterbox either but she felt l like he had gone the extra mile and forced himself to say things out loud that he wouldn't have said otherwise, in order to establish some kind of trust. If he was playing her, she swore to herself she would slit his throat in his sleep no matter the punishment. She could tell he was counting on their bonds as former victims, and she would make him pay if he abused it. She would not be a toy or a punching ball anymore.

Hell, how did she know he had been abused she suddenly wondered. Her guts seemed dead set on believing it and she supposed it was all she had left in this world. Back at the quarry, when she had crossed his path with a new mark on her face, he had never looked away in disgust or with pity. He had looked at her in the way only a fellow abuse victim could. Shitty bond to have but she felt deep down that it was there then and still was now.

Who were they, and how did they fit with each other now? They had barely known each other before, apart from that feeling in her gut. She found herself trusting him not to abuse his position of power over her but that didn't mean she was okay with his claiming her or whatever the fuck that meant. She had heard his excuse about protecting but didn't they all say that? Ed had said the same thing before cloistering her in their house, "for her own good". She immediately discarded that thought though. They had been strangers and were still strangers and while she had a hard time buying his logic, she could acknowledge it for what it was. She asked herself if he believed what he was saying, and the answer was affirmative in her mind.

She was but too aware that abuse victims often became abusers in their own time and the marauders seemed to belong to that category if they were not plain sadists. However, Daryl seemed different. The care he had taken with her, it was unnecessary if he planned to rape her. Lulling her into a false sense of safety was a dream as she would never feel safe around the other men. He might not have known her but he had seen things at the quarry, like they all had, and he had to remember that she would not fall for another abuser. She found herself wondering what tomorrow would be made of and what happened to claimed people. She only knew or felt that Daryl was perhaps the only good guy left in this world and while she would escape if she could, there was something about the man that made her feel like their shared experiences made them kindred spirits, for lack of a better word. She didn't know what that meant, if it was a weakness or a strength, and she wondered if there would be a way for her to turn him against his companions, if only to let her escape and keep going, away from them.

She almost moved but didn't, wanting to keep the sleeping charade in play. This was too soon to be contemplated, but she couldn't lie and pretend she didn't hope there would be a chance later. In the meantime she had to follow his lead. But then what? Would he protect her, as he seemed to think he was, would he let her show him that she didn't need protecting? Did she want that? Did she want out?

Those questions plagued her mind as she finally drifted to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter needs a forewarning for those who are triggered by abuse, sexual situation and the possibility of non-con. There is no rape in this chapter but the events could trigger someone.

He waited till she fell asleep. There was no way he was actually letting himself get some shut eye, he just didn't trust the marauders not to come and stab him in the back to get to the prize. He felt bad for Carol, her story was still a mystery to him but he had a feeling she had gone from being prey and a scapegoat to her husband then to someone free and capable of making it out on her own in the wild then back and now she was back to being a prize.

He moved around the house and found hidden stacks of weapons. She had enough weaponry to open a shop and more, he thought, a little impressed. He had seen the fight in her eyes and all, but it was a whole other thing to discover more weapons and more ammo. She had to carry it around one way or another, meaning she was always carrying a very heavy bag. He was glad he had claimed her gear, especially when he saw how extensive it was as he figure they would need it, with the others.

There was food in quantity, enough to feed them both for a while. She made him think of a squirrel preparing for winter.

This was good, right? He did wonder if she had planned to stay around for some time or if this was just something that had happened. If she had planned to stay put, she would have been able to make do for a while. Now he supposed everything would become his, or theirs as they would be sharing the thing he would decide to bring with them... This situation they were in…

He tried to think about what would happen when they would join the others again. There would be expectations that if not met could probably get him killed and her with him. When he'd thought things couldn't get worse…

Having claimed her, he realized, was more than a move out of sympathy. It came with a price and a game he really wasn't sure he could play. He would be expected to act a part. The others would expect him to take advantage of her, otherwise they would think the claim was pointless and he'd be toast. However, how was he supposed to explain this to Carol? Furthermore, did he want to explain it to her? He was not good with words, and he didn't know how much trust he could put in her, so there were many variables and he had no control whatsoever over any of those. When he had yelled that word, he had brought himself a shitload of trouble.

Then again he could have chosen someone else to be chivalrous about and that person would not have been … Carol. He wasn't sure how to explain it, but she was still alive which spoke volume about her ability to make it on her own. He thought about the ache she must have faced when losing her daughter and the strength it had to have demanded from her to keep on moving. When he had been separated from Merle, he had needed a minute before survival instinct had kicked back in: his first impulse had been to go back for his brother.

He wondered how much he could trust Carol though. They were strangers and all he had to go on was his instinct and his guts telling him that she was worth everything that would be tossed their way, that this was the person he wanted to stand up for and rescue, if there could only be one. He tried to picture discussing the claiming issues with her and what it would entail, but he found himself embarrassed at the thought which was stupid and pointless. His shyness could get them killed so talking to her should not feel like such a feat. He hoped that she would understand some of this instinctively. He had noticed this was her way to go as was his and that she had seemed to decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. He hoped that between half spoken words and meaningful glances, they would make it work.

He found himself wondering what his life would have been like if he had stayed with Merle and the lot at the quarry. He wondered if he and Carol would have been able to exchange a couple of words. He just wondered, a guilty pleasure of his which was also a pain in the ass according to Merle. He wondered about the life not lived. When he had claimed her even though she was just this woman he had barely known for a minute or so, he had brought so much danger onto them. Some wondering felt deserved.

Yet, he didn't regret it. It was about being decent, even when the world was ending. It was about showing someone who had known the same pain he had some mercy. Now here was to hoping she saw it the same way…

He craved a smoke.

He felt more than heard her wake up; something in the air, a chill, just something weird letting him know she was not sleeping anymore. Such a weird feeling and yet…

He went back in the room where she was and without a word, he helped her get up and escorted her to the bathroom. He loosened the noose around her wrists so that she would be able to attend to what she needed to do, and gave her a look. Thankfully there was no lock on the door, so he heard her do her business and come out when she had been able to wash her hand. He tied the noose tighter again.

It was still dark outside, but first light would appear soon.

He offered her a spoon and a can of peaches in syrup, and she ate some. She was dead silent; it was chilling. She looked to be almost disappointed in herself for having fallen asleep.

"What's next?" she said.

"Fuck me if I know," he answered truthfully, and he could tell she wanted to flip him the bird.

Instead, she gave him a pointed look.

"I know you don't believe it, but I can protect you from those guys. I ain't gonna pretend I'm doing you a favor or something. An asshole would, and try to milk it, but you were caught and I just did what seemed right."

Why was he trying to explain himself to her?

"Thing is, you're going to be tied up, all day long. Be thankful we don't have shackles, otherwise those pricks would insist on putting you in some for shits and giggles and sadistic fun. But yeah, I'll need to keep your hands tied, and I'll need you to not try to escape, or to kill any of those assholes. I don't know what comes next, only know what needs to happen now. I won't enjoy it," he said and she looked at him with surprise.

Quick as a cat, he grabbed her, and planted his lips on hers. He didn't open his mouth, didn't try to French her or anything, he was on a mission. He felt her fight against him. Their eyes were staring into each other and it was the most awkward yet the most important thing he knew he would do in his life. She tried to wrestle him and she almost managed to get a knee somewhere that would send him in a world of pain, but he managed to hold her back, begging her to understand, begging her to see that he was not taking any pleasure in what he was doing. This was survival, her and his. She tried to bit him, and she clawed at his face the best way she could. As she left scratches, he told himself it would do them good and help sell their charade. The surprise she had experienced for the few seconds had gone very quickly and as he kept his lips pressed on hers he was amazed by her will to fight him and the way she didn't give up. Eyes wide open, he prayed and hoped she could see what she needed to know. He finally let go of her lips and there was a second or maybe two when she just stared at him. He could tell she was considering yelling but was also discarding it as a way to get herself in trouble with the rest of the marauders and he saw her do the math. As he let her have a breathe without forcing himself further onto her she seemed to finally read what he had desperately hoped to convey.

"Oh." Was all she said, before she sighed and went limp, or limper in his arms and in his hands.

The way she yielded even though it had been his objective made him want to throw stuff against the wall, as he realized that this was certainly not the first time she had had to go with the flow, for her own safety. He felt like shit.

But he was an honorable shit who wanted to take care of her, protect her if he could. He gave her a nod then started rubbing his face against hers, so that his beard as light as it was, would leave marks on her skin. Hurting her felt like hurting himself. He never wanted to be the abuser, yet because of those assholes…

It was unpleasant, that was for sure. He kissed her again, or pressed his lips against hers as hard as he could without hurting her, though somewhere in his head the thought registered that if her lips looked like they had been bleeding, it could work in both their favors. So he kissed her harder, thinking that he had never been more ashamed.

He was a pretty damn good kisser, fuck you very much. He had once made a girl come just from kissing her and playing with her tits. It had been surprising, but it had also been a boost to his ego, like he could make a girl come without even getting to the good part.

The most inappropriate thought popped up in his head as he reflected on his skills as a lover. He went down on girls like a pro. At least, that was what he had been told once. He hadn't had so many girlfriends but the few he had, they hadn't left because they were sexually deprived. Sex was something he did well. This was not sex, by far and felt too much like rape. He wanted to stop and just let her go but he reminded himself of the price they would both pay. If he was going to get wet, might as well go swimming, he told himself as if it would erase the shame he was feeling from hurting her. He tried not to think about her husband and the similar things he may have inflicted on her. He told himself that he was not trying to subdue her. He was good with women, for fuck's sake. He told himself so many things trying to find a way to make this less despicable…

"Just fucking bite my lip already," she told him when he let go of her lip to rub his face against hers again and in doing so, shocking him out of his thoughts. He felt … words were escaping him. He had been thinking about sex, when this was the furthest thing from what they were doing. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Biting her lip though, that was the one thing he was not willing to do surprisingly. He had to mark her, actually really claim her, or pretend he had done so, but making her bleed, that just wasn't something he could do.

He tilted her head, and sucked on the skin. He did it on the other side, and another time close to that second mark. Fake hickeys were as good a tell as any, right? And he hadn't had to hurt her.

He finally let go of her and she was shaking like a leaf, making him want to puke. He was not that man, oh God. To his disbelief, she gestured for the mirror. He took her to stand in front of it, a bit surprised at the stranger he found staring back at him, wearing his clothes. He had never been shallow but he just didn't recognize that guy anymore.

He saw something in her eyes and he hated that he could tell she was trying to distance herself from past memories, about her deadbeat husband. She actually looked at him in the mirror for what felt like a long time and he would have sworn she was telling herself that he was not whatever the asshole's name had been. He hoped she could see it, and understand it but panic was something that didn't let you lots of time to ponder and put things in perspective now did it? He looked back at her in the mirror, wanting her to see him, and not her husband. He wanted her to know that if he could have prevented this to have to take place he would have done whatever was needed. He needed her to know that this was nothing he ever would have done in a million years, apocalypse or not. He wished he had gotten the chance to know her maybe for a second longer so that she would have known that this was not the kind of man he was.

But words were not his thing so he was left with staring and hoping. He didn't touch her as she seemed to get herself under control, the shaking in her limbs slowly disappearing.

"I suppose it will do," Carol said, then she took a closer look at her face and he saw her bite down on her lip so hard it started to bleed.

He could still see tremors and sweat on her face betrayed how queasy she felt but her determination as he hurt herself left him gaping for a second. She was trying to put some distance between them, as much as they could, but her eyes looked more in control, and they seemed to tell him that she understood. Maybe he was deluding himself. Hell he was probably deluded anyway. He just wanted to erase all the memories his assault had to have brought back. He found himself hoping he could go back in time and prevent them from happening in the first place, but that was the dreamer in him and he shut him down violently. What he had done he had despised, but she had suffered it, and that was so much worse than his self-pity.

"What was that?" He found himself uttering to his surprise after she had looked back into the mirror at her appearance.

"Don't want them to think I'm a sure thing," was all she said, trying to put some of the blood on her clothes to make it look like she had really fought him.

He would for all intent be a rapist, he realized and felt sick again. He had wanted her to know why but seeing her go the extra mile to make the charade stick felt like he had gotten stabbed in the back. The others wouldn't know, they would believe. He tried to keep himself in check, telling himself that she would know, and that was all that matter.

"Mess up my hair," she directed him coldly.

He carefully lifted his hands to her hair, and did a quick thing which was more of a caress than anything and it got him a glare.

"Come on. If we'd fucked on the ground and I thrashed around resisting, my hair would be a mess. Give it a good ruffle. I don't have much hair, but they have to believe there was a fight or we've done this for nothing. We can spray blood on each other, if we look like it was all in good fun, I don't think your buddies will be so keen to believe us."

He despised the way she referred to those fuckers as his buddies, but he supposed she was right. If he had the time he would have been impressed by the way she was staging her own abuse in order to help them both.

"You're…." he started.

"Yeah?" She asked, trying to do the job with her tied hands.

"Something else."

The admiration in his eyes may have be inappropriate given the circumstances but the way she had come back from that scary place in her head where he had thrown her back to his shame, it left you filled with nothing but admiration and respect, unless you were a fucking moron.

"Thank you. I guess." she sighed, lowering her hands and just looked at him, seeing something he wasn't sure was there.

He ruffled her hair as best as he could and she nodded.

The sun was slowly making its appearance and they could hear the others start to wake up. Daryl winced as always thinking about their ways. If he could hear them, walkers could hear them, and drifters too. Had those guys no survival instinct at all or were they so sure their numbers made up for everything else they didn't do?

"You don't kill them and you stay close to me, got it?" Daryl told her, after he had gathered up both their gear.

He gave her a bag with some of the food she had piled, and he saw the chagrined look on her face when she spotted all that they were leaving behind. It was not practical, he told himself, and wondered what she had planned to do had she not be caught.

It was time to face the music.

Once again he wondered what the hell he had signed up for.

Carol's brain was on overload, trying to take it all in, rubbing her eyes as they went to make it seem like she had cried. The others would be looking for tears she thought pragmatically, yet feeling unable to produce them on her own though she didn't lack motives.

He hadn't raped her. For some reason, she had never thought he would do it in the first place, but the fact that he took measures to make the others believe he had… It spoke volumes to her, about the guy he was. She could tell he hadn't been taking pleasure in bruising her lips and leaving burns on her face. It had been all about business, and his business was apparently to keep her safe.

Such a strange man. She had gone with the flow, not because she wanted to play this charade-but because she understood it was not only her life at stake, but his too. He had said it and at first her instinct had been to call bullshit yet when the terror had faded slightly and her pragmatic mind had kicked back in, it had made sense. She had no doubt the others would be looking for any excuse to grab her back. She had seen the looks on their faces the night before, no matters how brief the encounter. It was a look she had seen way too often, on Ed's face, and his brute buddies. Yet Daryl… He was a good man. It felt so surreal to say this of a man who had just all but peed on her to assert his ownership of her but it was the truth. She had seen the despise in his eyes when he had had to molest her. She didn't like the fact that there had been no warning but by taking her by surprise he had managed to make it look like he had had his way. Who was this man? It had been over a year and a half since the quarry and it made no sense for her to feel certain about anything about him yet she was. Rick, Tyreese, Hershel, Glenn, they all had been good men, she had always been able to tell. She had had instinct sure, but she also had gotten to know them, letting her know her instinct had been right. There had been no time with Daryl yet she felt as dead certain about his goodness than she did about Hershel. It had felt like those men back at the prison had been the only good men left roaming this Earth and the marauders sure made it feel like that assessment was correct, until she took Daryl in consideration. They knew so little about one another, yet he was willing to protect her and not take advantage at all. Rick was a good man and nothing could persuade her otherwise yet he had been cunning, and part of his love and affection had had to do with the fact that she had taken care of Lori when he didn't want to acknowledge she existed. There had a silent contract between them, that she would be the mother den even to his kids if need be and in return he would keep her on his good side. When he had exiled her, she had not been surprised, the contract had been broken in his mind. Did she hate him for that? Who had time for hate anymore in a world when every day could or would be your last?

She was certain some people still had time for those feelings of hatred, but she had decided to let it go as it only hurt her away from them. Back at the prison, they had moved on and holding on to the memory of what she had had would not keep her alive. So she had let go.

Daryl though came as a wildcard for her. This whole situation was a wildcard but he stood up amongst his road companions as a decent man perhaps lost amongst people who were not worse a drop of his sweat or blood.

This whole set up, this charade, it had hurt her so much yet she found herself weirdly appeased by the knowledge that this pain had been shared. If there was a next time, more marks to add, she knew he would let her know. She almost chuckled out loud asking herself how she knew that but instinct was all she had, along with his behavior. She knew sadists, and con artists, people playing the long game. In this sad fucked up game they found themselves playing, he was the most genuine person she had met in years. It was a good surprise and it made her feel slightly safer though she was not fool enough to believe everything would be okay just because she wished it to be. Lord knew if that worked…

She didn't allow herself to think about her daughter and just got closer to Daryl. Just a night had passed since they had met again, yet he was now her only constant in this shitty world.

They left the house, taking care to lock the door behind them, and found the others were waiting on them. To say there were catcalls would be an understatement. There was some cheering, and some dirty comments, but she could see the leader's eyes on her face like he could see it was just a bit too red, a bit too fresh to be real. She hoped she was just imagining things.

"If I catch a rabbit, and give it to you," one of the guys told Daryl, "will you let me have a go with her?"

"I claimed her and I don't share," he answered, but the guy didn't seem deterred.

"You'll get bored. We can keep her busy."

"What the fuck did I say?" Daryl growled, and Carol realized she was behind him.

She wasn't sure she had gotten there or he had moved around to protect her, but the result was the same, he was in front of her, defying anybody and everybody to do anything.

"Something isn't right," Joe said. "Daryl…. I have a hard time buying what you're selling."

Carol got genuinely scared, as it seemed the leader had indeed read through their play, and she was tied up, as useless as a knife without a shaft. The screaming, she thought. There had been no screaming. They would have tried to hear it, or Joe would have as he seemed to be the only one with a brain. Fuck.

"For Fuck's Sake, I don't like an audience, what can I say?" Daryl exclaimed, and she could tell he was uneasy.

He turned to her and grabbed her suddenly and violently, and though she could have sworn she saw a flash of apology in his eyes, she was still taken by surprise when he kissed her, tongue and all, his hands groping her body in a showing fashion as he did so. It felt like he was claiming every bit of her, and even though she knew he was a good man, she felt angst and fear in her belly. She caught his eye again and saw him begging for something, but she wasn't ready to play that part. Instinct has always was taking over, and she moaned against his lips as she felt a tear roll down her cheek, followed by another.

She tried to shake him off, purely out of instinct, tried not to think about Ed and how useless he would make resisting look like. She moaned and cried out, bit his lip and when he finally let go of her, she tried to escape far away from him, but he wouldn't let her.

They shared a look which had to be short in case it was seen by one the others, but she heard the word he was projecting:

Sorry.

It didn't make anything better, and it sure as hell didn't make her stop shaking, but she was finally her way back in her own mind, and out of fear. In his eyes, she caught a hint of despise and was once again consoled by the fact that this was a pain they shared.

Fuck this man. Fuck this good man and all he had to put her through to keep her alive. Hell, fuck those goddamn fuckers instead, for making them play a game they didn't want to play.

He finally let her go, and for good measure, slapped her ass, making the guys around howl with laughter.

"Now, are we going on or what?" Daryl asked.

Joe smiled, apparently convinced this time as he had seen her struggling against her captor without making a sound, an habit due to her previous life as an abused wife. Finally the group got a move on and started walking.


	5. Chapter 5

It was hell, she decided when they finally stopped for the night in the middle of nowhere. The walking had not been an issue as she was used to covering longer distances, but the assholes who called themselves the marauders had made it infernal.

They were like children, sick perverted children who saw her as a shiny new toy. They had spent a couple of hours trying to touch her ass when they were all walking, and she had found herself walking closer and closer to Daryl to try to make them stop. She had gotten so close she had bumped into his back and he had turned around, surprised. At the exact same time, one of the jerks had put his hand forward to grab her ass, and Daryl had moved her out of the way so that he could throw a punch in the asshole's face. Joe had been forced to intervene and remind his perverted flock that claimed property didn't get their ass grabbed.

If that had been the only issue, though… The catcalls and lewd comments had been a running commentary throughout the day, and she had felt actually relieved to have three minutes of silence when they thought walkers were near and they finally shut their mouths as they got ready to fight. Daryl had once again tried to protect her by putting her behind him but it had only showed them both how ineffective this would be and how much danger they would be in if there were indeed walkers around. It had turned out that it was a walker, but a loner and he had been disposed of very quickly before they started walking again.

She had been an effective survivor for so long, dealing with walkers on her own, staying away from herds yet killing with the loners she encountered, she had almost stopped fearing them. However, finding herself behind Daryl with her hands tied while there could be walkers around was a brutal reminder of the real danger they represented. For a second, she wondered if her baby had felt the way she had, so useless and afraid, needing someone to take care of her. Kids like Carl had grown up into the Apocalypse but her daughter never had the opportunity. She had pushed those thoughts as far away as possible from her mind. She couldn't allow herself to get emotional, but Daryl seemed to have noticed, if she had read the look he had given her right. Weirdly, she was okay with him knowing she was not made of steel.

This claimed thing was the gift that kept on giving, in the worst possible way. Daryl was being a dick to her, treating her like his property. He had slapped her ass more times than she could count, often watching a marauder in the eye, as if to remind the loser that she was his and only his. She was smart, she knew why he was doing this. When they had decided to play this charade, they hadn't planned how far it would need to go. A couple of hours into it, Joe had been looking at them funny, even though she had been on her best behavior, and it had appeared to the both of them that a rough kiss and a hurt figure were not enough. Daryl had to treat her like she was not a she, but an it, something for him to use and abuse. He called her "woman", and when the others asked him for her name, he had said he didn't know it. He had made a joke about calling her a dirty slut when heh had had his way with her, and she wished she had been shocked, but things were unreal no matter which way you chose to look at them. Daryl had been prompted by a marauder who kept on taunting him about how their fucking had gone if she had kept so silent, and that had been when Daryl had called her a slut.

It had made her feel empty, not because she believed a word he had said, she had been there and had known what they had done and hadn't done, but for some reason the realization hadn't doomed on them yet that their relationship would be the only thing people would be interested in, in the most perverted ways. Len had asked if Daryl had enjoyed fucking her ass, the younger one had asked about fisting and blowjobs. There had been some questions that were bordering on bestiality even though they were about two humans. It was just… sex all the time. If the Marauders couldn't fuck her, they wanted to know all the details.

Daryl wasn't keen on telling, and he kept mum as much as he could but in turn he had to be rough with her, and he often pulled on the rope holding her so roughly she would almost fall. He patted her ass, her breasts, and her face. When Matthew had talked about blowjobs, Daryl had made a show of playing with her mouth, forcing a finger in for her to suck on and she had tried to stop him, refusing to comply which had made the assholes say things about his needing to tame her once and for all.

It felt dirty, for the both of them. When the others weren't looking like when they were sharing fantasies about what they would have done to her, there had been some looks Daryl had thrown her, and she had read how much he despised the part he was playing. She saw how much he hated himself for it, and she had found herself trying to convey that though it was not okay, she got it. She had a feeling he had read that right, but he had seemed to have a hard time coming to terms with her acceptance.

It was not acceptance, in no way, but they were selling the Marauders' fantasy, and there were things they had to do or to suffer through that made them both want to hurl. They couldn't speak, had no privacy. It was tough. She could tell that Daryl hated everything he did, but he was a good actor and if she hadn't known better, hadn't read it in his eyes, she would have believed he was as perverted as the group they were hanging around with. There was no respite, but Carol longed for a minute or two, maybe just a bunch of couple of seconds even.

She wanted to ask Daryl if they had a place they were going, or if they were just randomly roaming the infected country. She wondered many things, like did they know that if one of them died, he would come back? Without the trip to the CDC, they hadn't had a clue. However, when it came to the marauders and the way they behaved, being nothing else than a herd themselves in so many ways, she suspected they must have seen people coming back to life after a clean killing.

She thought with nostalgia about her old family but forced herself to shut down those feelings. She was used to thinking about Sophia, Lilah and the group every day, but around those people, she didn't want to think about them. It made her too vulnerable. She was fighting every display Daryl put on, though he always seemed to quite often get the upper hand, and she needed to focus on it. Sophia had no place in what was happening. Her poor little lamb, slaughtered as she had been.

She stopped that line of thinking right away, and once again, she realized that Daryl had been watching her. He seemed to wonder, to want to ask something but they just couldn't talk, didn't have that luxury. She pushed Sophia as far away as possible from her mind. This was too rough. She was barely done dealing with the groping that had taken place in the first place to appease Joe. It had brought back so many memories of a life lived and lost, for good but also for worse. Around those pigs, those assholes, she needed to keep her head on, and focus on dealing with the curveballs Daryl had to keep throwing at her to make it look like he was the boss of her. Like he owned her, she thought with a bad taste in her mouth. She had vowed never to let anyone claim ownership over her, and now she had to go along with that…. The few happy memories she had of time spent with Sophia, Carl, Judith and even the grown-ups just had to be kept down. She couldn't let herself look like she found comfort in anything. She had to make them believe she was a victim, again.

Her wrists were hurting but she didn't suffer from chaffing, Daryl having made sure to tie the rope over some clothes. He didn't have to, she thought, but he had taken into consideration her wellbeing. It seemed almost incongruous in the world they were in but it did take her memory back to the quarry and how he hunted to feed them all—another unnecessary act that indicated the kind of person he truly was at his heart.

Night started to fall and Joe had called for a halt. The Marauders had gone into automatic mode, setting wires with empty cans all around the space they had decided would be theirs for the night. They may have been assholes but they were organized ones, which surprised her but also rocked her with relief.

Having set a mat on the ground, Daryl dropped their belongings beside it. He helped her remove the bag she was carrying, and fished a can for dinner out of it. There would be no fire Joe had decided so Daryl had picked a can of food which could be eaten straight out of the tin.

They sat down, and he gave her a spoon, as they both dug in. This of course prompted comments, and Dan asked Daryl why he trusted her with a spoon.

"Mind you own business," was all the hunter said.

She supposed a spoon could be used as a weapon, if the shows she had seen about prison were any indication, but she didn't see the point of killing Daryl and leaving herself at the mercy of those pigs.

When they were done, the spoons being washed with water summarily, Daryl grabbed his crossbow and said:

"Don't fucking touch my gear. I'll kill you if anything is missing. I'll know."

"Oh, the lovebirds are leaving us to enjoy a romp in the sack," Matthew said.

Daryl didn't answer, and grabbed Carol, forcing her to come with him.

They didn't go far but her mind was spinning. The precautions he had taken that morning, the marks he had left, hell, even the conquering kiss from before, she had really thought she was safe with him.

She felt hurt by what he seemed about to do, and she didn't understand why. She blamed it on her gut being wrong about him.

They walked for just a minute or two, and she used every second of it to prepare herself to fight him with everything she had. She couldn't let herself submit to this degradation, to this violence, not again. She'd worked herself up, memories of Ed's filthy hands on her and the acts she was forced to submit to, when Daryl finally turned, his mouth open as if ready to speak now they'd passed hearing range.

He saw the look in her eyes and visibly shrunk away from her. "Fuck no!" he spat out. "Bathroom break."

Those four words filled with her with joy and shattered the fear that had been building. Daryl loosened the knot around her wrist, and gave her more rope so that she could hide behind a bush yet still be his prisoner.

"Get down to business," he told her, his voice rough and impatient. "I've needed to take a piss since midday."

And so, with a rope pulled taut between them, they managed to respect each other's privacy as the got down to business. The sounds of their reality could be heard but she just felt relieved she didn't have to crouch and squat in front of him.

When they were done and she returned to his side, he shortened the rope and retied the knot. She wanted to thank him but the words wouldn't come out.

He got a bottle of water out of nowhere, and made a show of putting it above her hands, ready to pour some. She nodded and he tipped some over her hands, watching as she washed up.

"Figured you'd want that", he said before repeating the process for himself. He surprised her again, that he'd give two shits about hygiene with the men he travelled with.

They were dirty and looked their worst but he had been right. While she had given up most of the comforts they used to have, hygiene was still high on her list of things.

He started to lead her back to the campsite and she hesitated, worry pricking at her skin: "No marking like this morning?"

"We weren't gone long enough for them to believe we did anything. Maybe they could but I'm not that guy." The disgust in his voice shocked her and Carol filed it away in the file of the many things Daryl Dixon did that unsettled her original impression of him.

He looked around, and found some herbs. He came up to her, and showed her some leaves.

"Rub them on your face, on your lips. It'll hurt, but it'll make it look like… Like this morning happened again,' he uttered reluctantly.

She just kept on being surprised. Of course he knew things about nature, being a hunter. She was struck by how much she didn't know him, yet how much she found herself trusting him. She took the leaves, and rubbed the leaf with the poisonous side on her face as he told her. She rubbed some down on her chest, where it could be seen, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

He had not raped her, and he never would, but they still had to make it look like they had. She allowed herself ten seconds of wondering about what her life had become. She crouched and got some dead leaves and small branches. She tried to put some in her hair, with some success, but catching her drift, Daryl came to the rescue and helped her get her looking like she had planned.

"I don't want to scratch you," she found herself saying, surprised yet certain.

She would need to hurt him to make it look like she had fought back. He looked at her, as if he was weighing everything she was implying and trying to come with a solution. He got closer, and untied her hands just quickly enough for him to put them behind her back and remake the knot. He pulled on her shirt, to make it messy, and she fell to the ground, on her back, thrashing around to get dirt on her back. Daryl worked with his clothing to make it unkempt.

As they worked together to create another moment in this charade, they shared a look and though it was dark, she would have sworn she could read the sorrow in his eyes.

"We're in this shit together," she told him.

He didn't say anything, not that she expected him to but there was a slight nod. He tugged on her shirt to show a bit more cleavage and she would have sworn he was blushing. He helped rub some more of that hers he had found on the skin that was no showing, and though she had no mirror, she instinctively knew how she must have looked: used and abused.

Just as they were about to be within earshot of the marauders, he stopped, his expression twisted up as he appealed for her to understand his actions.

"This morning… Had no choice."

She nodded. It was not an apology but the sentiment counted, enough for her to feel a nervous yet gentle smile flutter at her lips.

"I'll keep touching you. I'll try to take you by surprise every time but I ain't that much an asshole. Every night, we can talk like this. If something goes too far, you can bring it up and I'll try something different."

She could only nod. It was more than she could hope. Oh, he hated what he was doing to her, no doubt, but she also knew he didn't know her well enough period. He was being considerate but practical. He was keeping her safe, no matter what it meant, and in doing so he was also keeping himself safe.

"You're mine," he said. "We never had a woman before. They want you just because you're a chick. I'm tryin' but…"

"I won't let you down."

She didn't need to details the way she could help, as he seemed to have noticed, and she hoped he would found more herbs the next day to keep the charade up. They would have to discuss it when doing their business, but no matter how much she hated it, she would be his thing. She would fight and not let him get away with everything, or anything, but she would let him win. She would whimper, cry, and beg. She would, for herself but also for him.

When they made their way through the walls of strings, the marauders started howling with laughter, asking Daryl if he had given it to her good and other lewd comments. He took his time to stop and watch her, as if realizing for the first time her hands were in her back, then made a show out of untying her just to tie her hands back in front of her. They were painting such a picture, even their daft companions couldn't miss it. There were comments about taking advantage of the next time her hands were tied in her back to explore "her other assets" one of the marauders said thinking he was smooth.

The expressions on their faces, their expectation of a captured woman being shown no mercy turned her stomach and while she felt strength believing she was safe with Daryl, she knew that safety was precarious and dependent on Joe's upholding of his claim. If that were all to go to hell, then probably so would she.

"Enough," Joe said in a low voice.

"Got some, bitch are made for one thing, right?" Daryl concluded.

The others howled with laughter and were already trying to imagine what they had done. Joe nodded and went back to what he was doing. So far so good, Carol thought, but she wondered how long Daryl could keep the wolves off their back.

The other marauders either hadn't heard Daryl's comment or decided to ignore it as they started grilling him with many questions, the less lewd being about the carpet matching the drapes. Years with Ed and his asshole friends usually made her immune to those comments but it had been going on all fucking day long and she was ready to snap. Daryl seemed to understand it and made the make their way to their mat immediately.

They sat there just a few feet away from the others but the distance was soothing. She wondered what was next. He gestured for her to lie down, and she did so, turning her back to the marauders. Daryl laid down in front of her which surprised her until he looked over her shoulder to their companions and it all made sense.

"Can you turn?"

She did, facing the others though it was against her instinct. On the other hand, sleeping face to face with Daryl would be far too intimate. He was pressed against her back and his arms were around her as she held her hands in front of her. She was suddenly extremely aware of the darkness settling in, and his smell filled her nose. It had been so long since she had slept in the arms of a man, and though this was not a romantic setting, for the first time in years, she felt good, maybe safe even.

It only lasted for a second of course, as Joe started a walk around and pointedly looked at them. She tapped into her past, as hard as it was, and she forced herself to lo appear to be slightly shaking and looking for an exit. Daryl was only surprised for a second and pretended to be caressing her ass as he looked over to Joe.

The leader seemed happy with what he had seen, but then Carol wondered how much of what he showed was true. Joe went to his own mat away, and Matthew took the first watch, away from them. They waited some time, then relaxed, though Daryl's hands stayed on her bottom.

She knew from the game they were playing that this was meant to be possessive, as people would see her back first and his hands on his "property" first. However, they did relax, for a second.

This was a feeling she had almost forgotten all about, but there it was. She found herself praying silently for her instinct to be right and not be simply letting the feel of a man fool her, even if so far he had been gentle even when he had to be rough with her as well as respectful when the days were ending. They were surrounded by dangerous men, and she was in no position to defend herself, she was afraid as fuck but she also knew that his man would always be there for her.

It had been a day, but with every decision he had made, those that are been rough on hers and those she had played along with, it had all been about saving her. Without him, she had no doubt she would have been raped every way possible then killed. Those assholes probably wouldn't have had the decency to kill her properly, they would have let her turn and have a good laugh at her. Daryl was risking everything, for someone he didn't know. She was trusting someone she barely knew with her life, and had no second thoughts about it. It was not a chance he had taken on her when he had claimed her, he had turned his life upside down with one word and had done everything and more to keep her alive. A fucking decent man he was for sure, but it was even beyond decency. He left her speechless. He would do everything for them to make it out alive, she knew it, and she hoped she'd be able to help him do so.

She had always relied on her instincts since being rid of Ed, and she hoped that she was right to do so again, as she closed her eyes, surrounded by Daryl, in such a hostile environment. It seemed crazy for him to make her feel safe, but the feeling was there. This was a leap of faith, and while she was not ready to jump, the urge to trust him was appealing.

Len moved his mat somewhere near theirs, and she hated knowing he was somewhere she couldn't see. However, she saw the look in Daryl's eyes when he saw their new neighbor, and she had a feeling he would be sleeping with one eye open, at all time, to protect them both. The others were already sleeping so an ambush seemed unlikely but the others were a pack. For now, they thought Daryl had a perfect hold on her. It would be a day to day struggle.

She fell asleep in the blink of an eye, exhausted.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for everyone reading and commenting, you make my day every time. Trigger warning for mention of rape and sexual abuse.**

They walked for four days this way, from dawn till dusk, always settling in for the night somewhere they made secure, and night after night she found herself sleeping in Daryl's arms. It was still as strange as the first night, but she had also found out that in this situation they were in, this was not the worst part by far. He kept her safe at night, and she kept an eye out. They didn't speak, and while uncomfortable at times, there was also a sense of peace, something alien but true. When the day had been spent dealing with the marauders, keeping up the charade and pretending some more on top, when she would lay in his arms, waiting for sleep to come, she would feel in sync with him though it made no sense. It was as if they shared the same thought, they had made it through another day.

She knew the days had gone by because she kept track, the same way she had when she had been on her own. Four days felt like a decade. Then one day, Len decided he couldn't go on anymore because of his ankle, glaring daggers at her and Joe decided that they would stay in the same place for a couple of days, until he was feeling better. This seemed mighty charitable of the leader but when she thought about it, trying to see it through his eyes, Len was a hindrance more than an asset with a busted ankle so giving him those few days off his feet made sense. However, she had the distinct feeling that it was a trial for the guy and that if he didn't get better, something would happen to him and the group would be one man down.

On that fifth morning, Daryl waited till everybody was doing something, and he grabbed his gear and gestured for Carol to follow him. She was tempted to roll her eyes, given that she had no choice but to follow, and he gestured for her to keep the noise down which was in itself useless as she was always walking on the tip of her toes, or so it felt.

They walked into the forest, quickly and silently, until he crouched and gestured for her to do the same. She noticed that he had let go of the rope that he usually had tied around one of his wrists, making her free. She knew better however than to try and take advantage of this, as it would be too obvious for one.

He seemed to be listening to something she couldn't see and she focused on the sound of the forest.

"We're hunting," he finally told her. "I know you still have cans in your bag but since we're staying in one place, might as well find something else to eat."

She looked at him and nodded.

"Don't worry," he said, "we ain't killing Bambi. If we killed a deer and brought it back, we would have to share it and leave a trace for walkers to come after us. We'll be looking for smaller game, like squirrels. Maybe possum."

"For the record, if we had been killing Bambi, I would have taken down his mom without a second thought," she found herself retorting.

She was rewarded with a tiny grin that she would have missed had she not been focused on him at that moment. This had been happening, from time to time More often than not, she could tell the grin was there more than she could see it like when they would take their break apart from the group at night and she would say something that would create a smile. He had even chuckled once, though he had gone back to being stoic the following second. She found it hard to laugh, but she had flashed him a couple of smiles too. It was weird, this sense that in any other settings, they might have gotten along. They had some admiration for one another though it was a silent thing. She admired the way he took risk to keep her safe and she knew he admired the way she managed to go with the flow to keep them alive.

She had an inkling he had to know she was no blushing flower, running away from a kill, but she wanted things to be very clear. She didn't regret breaking Len's ankle when she had been caught what felt like a hundred years ago, and if he got left behind because of his injury she would have no trouble being able to live with it.

She wondered if he could read what she really meant between the simple lines she had said.

He gave her a look which made her believe that he indeed could. A look filled with knowledge and approval, eyes twinkling with humor.

"Why you playing them?" He asked under his breathe, making sure he was not making eye contact.

So he had noticed, she thought, not that she expected anything else from him. These past few days, she had adapted her behavior in a way she thought would be more lulling for the marauders. She didn't threaten them out loud and pretended to avoid their glares. When Daryl would touch her, she would have a chill, for show more often than not, and then pretend to fall into herself before following him. They would go away as they had done that first time, and they would do the same thing, take care of their business, then roughen her up for show. Daryl hadn't always found the plant he had been looking for, but they had found something similar to nettles but less aggressive, and while it left patches more than just redness, in the darkness of the camp, no one had seemed to notice the difference in patterns. Every night they talked about what they had had to do that day, and what they could do to make it look more real, though always talking in hushed tones and making sure to use euphemisms in case one of the men decided to follow them. After that first night with the group when Len had come to sleep next to them, it had been Matthew's turn the following night, and so on. It seemed they were under hyper scrutiny, like Joe had issued instructions they were not aware of but that implied that Daryl wouldn't be able to keep Carol subdued. With all of this, they couldn't allow themselves to be sloppy as the guys were not that smart and something not made clear enough could probably start a fight. Her toning down her resistance and the way she behaved seemed to work fine with the scrutiny and the charade, as if he was subduing her more and more. It was tricky, though, because she couldn't let the others believe that she was getting used to all of them. It was a fine line she was walking but she had too much experience in doing things like this and she wouldn't be caught unaware.

"Two can play a game," she said. "Or three or four," she added as an afterthought, thinking back to the way Joe was watching her and watching them interact.

"It'd help to know what game we're playing," he said in a low tone.

"Survival," was her only response.

She was a prisoner with the group of thieves and murderers and the more time went by the more she realized that Daryl was as trapped as she was. Hell, by claiming her, he had put himself in a corner, forcing himself to stay with the others in order to be able to keep his claim on her. They were playing the others, though the display they had had to put on had felt too close to reality for her taste, but that didn't mean it had to be their only card.

If she played herself down, as if was giving in, slowly and piece by piece to Daryl, she was becoming even less of a threat to the group as a whole. She would never be off their radar, but there was no point in being blunt and telling each and every one of them how much pain she wanted to inflict upon them as retaliation for the things they had made happen. It was much smarter to play it down.

She hated the word play, especially when it was a game of life or death, but there was no other way to describe it. It was like chess. She was pretending to be a pawn, while hoping she could turn out to be more useful like a bishop or a horseman. By pretending she was acknowledging Daryl's claim and not fighting it, it made things easier for them to be left alone, and it also gave her, and maybe them together, the element of surprise if she got a chance to use it to their advantage.

She was awe struck for a second as she realized she was thinking of Daryl and her as a team. Their shared experience of being abuser and victim had created a bond against all odds, that ran deeper than water and felt just as fathomless. They had both shared that pain made common to them both through their equal distaste for what was expected and they had both hated the others for making them go through this. They were together in this as far as they were not part of Joe's family. They were outsiders.

He had to know, she thought, that he was not part of the group and she hoped he was elated by that prospect. Having lost his brother and the only person he had trusted, it could have been so easy to try and blend in with some new people, find a new place and let someone else take the lead, but his claim on her proved that he was not one for blending in, at all costs, which had come as surprise to all parties involved, even Daryl. From what she remembered at the quarry and the little things he had said about his time with Merle, Daryl had been a follower, blending in with the people they had encountered, completely aware that he could say no but never having done so, until that night when he had claimed her. In doing so, she had the feeling he had broken free from Joe's hold on him, earning his distrust, but showing at least to her what kind of man he really was. As days went by, as the charade took its toll on them, she watched him, and she felt like he was thinking of exit strategies, of ways of getting them out of there. She wanted out and if he could free her she would do whatever it took to achieve that goal. What could happened next was a blur though.

They stayed silent as he searched for clues she couldn't see more often than not, then he found some squirrels, and a rabbit. It was more than enough for the day, and while she didn't look forward to the cooking that would undoubtedly be her duty, including the cleaning of the catches, she thought that she could make a brew, nothing fancy, but something different still. Something civilized. That would be a kick, wouldn't it, to be eating something elaborated when standing around somber brutes….

Though one was not so much of a brute than he was a tactician.

"I think Joe might be on to what we tried to sell him the last time around." She broke the silence.

As they made their way back to the others, he thought back over the conversation they'd just had, if it could even be called that. It had felt good to be able to call her out on the way she was behaving, letting her know that he was no fool, but it had also been frightening. What if Joe saw it?

Daryl didn't really know or wasn't sure he could have explained how he had spotted the difference in the way the woman had been behaving, but he supposed he had been too used to adapting his movements and his temper when around his father, something must have felt familiar and triggered a memory, and recognition of what she was doing.

She was so not the woman he had barely knew ages ago, that much they had established over and over again, but as he watched her adapt the way she reacted to the others, to play a part and be someone she wasn't, he was amazed and felt relieved this woman was on his side.

It came down to this really, he was not alone anymore. This hunting trip had been a whim of his, and while nothing had happened seemingly, there had been a multitude of things taking place left and right. She hadn't run. She had stayed by his side. She had even pointed in the direction of a squirrel at one point, when he had been distracted by what he had thought was a possum but had really been nothing. When he was hunting, he was deep into it, and his surroundings sometimes barely registered. She could have taken advantage of his focus and probably injured him. Sure, that would have led to her quasi almost certain death, but if she had wanted, she could have and the fact that she hadn't spoke volumes in his head.

After the things he had had to do, back then, when he had mauled her in front of everybody to stake his claim like she was territory to be grasped, the way she acted and hadn't seized the opportunity to off him earlier made him feel like a new man, like he was redeemed, but he had also noticed that she didn't think he needed to redeem himself. What he had done, no matter how despicable and sick it had been, Carol had understood then and still did why it had been necessary. She had played her part, through and through. When he had needed to claim her again in front of the guys, and she had whimpered and fought him, he had been ready to toss the charade to the wind and try to take the others on. The fear she had been radiating had left him breathless and hurting. The fact that he had been the one inflicting such atrocious pain on her had plagued his thoughts that whole day and then some. However, Carol had seemed to slowly, not spontaneously, let him off the hook as she dealt with what she was feeling.

Taking her hunting had been about creating an opportunity for her to let him know that what he was seeing was true: she was with him.

It was weird. He didn't know if he could get used to it or even if he should but for once since joining the marauders, he had an ally. It didn't escape him that gaining that ally had meant alienating the original pack,, but he couldn't say he was too sad about that. They had been a means to an end, staying alive. However, finding someone to stand beside him made that status change again, and this time they were becoming enemies. The dumbest of the lot couldn't see it, but Joe… He was one bad motherfucker, but killing him was not an option: his charisma was the only thing acting like a leash on the rest of the assholes. Still he was a terrible threat in that he saw things, and never took them at face value.

Carol was a good actress, but what happened if Joe caught her off guard, or if he saw her mask drop for a second? He had seen it himself, but he would have liked to think it was because she had been enough at ease around him to drop the act. Joe seemed to have eyes everywhere. What if he already knew?

They came back to the place they would be staying, an old barn they had cleaned from zombie presence for Len's sake and their own. Just a few meters away from where they could have been seen, Daryl retied the knot around Carol's wrists, so that no one would know of the freedom he had given her. She went to their corner with him and they started working on the meat he had caught. This would be no history making meal but he was looking forward to some meat. Sure, in the cans of bean and sausage he had had some proteins, but nothing replaced the feeling you had when you were eating something you had chased, something cooked fresh over a flame. Carol had told him back in the woods about her stew idea and he emptied and readied the meat as she worked on a casserole and some spices someone had left behind. This barn had seen more than one camp of survivors take a moment to rest judging by the leftovers.

Carol looked grateful when he handed her the meat clean, and he cut it for her as it would have seemed out of the charade to give her too much freedom. She put some herbs in the water and a can of mixed vegetables before dropping the meat in. The scents it emitted made the marauders green with envy, and Daryl couldn't bring himself to care. There would be more than enough for Carol and him, but he had no plans to share it, it would get dumped if they couldn't finish it which he highly doubted given their own state of hunger. The others could go fuck themselves if they thought they'd be having any of it, bunch of dogs begging for scraps.

Daryl noticed the way Carol looked for his eyes, for his approval, before making a much more tangible display for the others, presenting him with a spoon of stew and pretending to hold her breath in as he tasted it. When he nodded in delight, she made a little noise, as if she was happy, and he thought that if Joe hadn't been there to be a pain in the ass, her act would have been the only thing needed to sell the others the idea that she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome.

As soon as it was done, so as not to draw in any walkers, or worse other survivors on their trail with the delicious smell lingering in the air, Carol and Daryl polished off the food, eating every last bit of it.

With his belly full and feeling content for once in a long time, Daryl was about ready to call it a night when Joe made a throat noise.

This was bad news, Daryl thought as his eyes went to Carol who was rinsing the pot she had cooked in, a souvenir from a previous group who had inhabited the barn. They broke apart as quickly as possible, not wanting the others to catch onto the fact that they were a team.

Fuck, a team, Daryl thought briefly.

"It's been five days," Joe finally said, and Daryl looked a few feet from him to Carol, following the leader's stare.

"Yeah? So what?"

"You claimed her five days ago, and took her then. But ever since, zilch, nada, nil," Joe spoke slowly as if he was building the intrigue for the others, which he probably was.

"We're on top of each other all the time," Daryl tried to say, forcing himself to sound incredulous, as if their fearless leader needed to get his eyes checked.

"Wouldn't keep me off my woman."

The others grunted in agreement, and Daryl felt sweat up and down his back. He saw Carol freeze where she was, and he thought back to their conversation. The dreaded scenario seemed to be happening.

"If you do not take her tonight, in that corner over there, where you will have your damn privacy you cling to like a lady clinging to her pearls, then the claim will be null and void. She will become ours again."

Daryl's mind was all over the place, wondering how to deal with this threat while noticing that Joe had talked about the woman being theirs, clearly drawing a line between him and them. Things weren't good, but what choice did he have?

"Give me twelve hours. I want a bed," Daryl tried to bargain. "She already serviced me plenty while we were out in the woods, hunting," he said, taking the time to detach the word from the rest, hoping to imply for everybody that hunting hadn't been the main activity. "I could do with a bed, just for once. Fucking ain't cool when you've got straws poking in your ass and sides."

"I'm sure Len or Matthew could forget about the inconvenience of the straws if they were on top of your lady", Joe said.

This was war, or how war started. They weren't playing possum anymore.

"You win," Daryl said, and the others howled as Carol seemed to shrink in on herself. "Or I win."

And he made his way to Carol, knowing what had to be done.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Please proceed at your own risks, I can't stress enough the trigger warning about violence, sexual and everyday violence, as well as torture.**

There were few steps to take to get to Carol, but Daryl felt each and every one of them in his very being. Joe had seen what they had been hiding, and he was calling out his bluff in front of everyone. What were his options? Admit to faking? Getting killed was not appealing, and neither would be what would happen to Carol if he did. He needed to up the game. What that meant gave him nightmares.

His heart was making the worst ruckus ever in his chest, blood pumping ferociously in his veins, ringing in his ears. This wasn't who he was. He was a survivor, but what he'd have to do to survive this time would surely damn his soul to Hell. It would mean losing himself forever, in hope of keeping a stranger alive, of keeping his own damn self alive.

But take her? That would mean rape.

Rape was a big no-no, apocalypse or not. Rape was not something he could do. He tried to think of a way he could pretend to rape Carol, but the thought made him want to puke. Showing her boobs, showing his ass, pretending to pound into her…

He felt like throwing up. He couldn't believe this was a thought he was having, couldn't believe he actually had ideas on how to proceed. All that mattered was saving Carol, right? But what if it meant maiming her forever? Sure you could lose a limb, say a hand and go on living, but losing your sanity?

He remembered how she had shaken when he had assaulted her, he remembered all too well how it had felt to have a frail body between his hands, at his mercy. This had not been something he'd enjoyed at all and if it never happened again then it would have been too soon. Except he was supposed to…

Rape her. Or pretend he was raping her.

Holy Hell. What was he supposed to do?

Even if by some miracle she understood it was a game of pretend and she played along, cried and begged for him to stop, he would still be butt naked surrounded by murderers who hadn't had a woman in months. Nothing indicated he would make it out of this challenge alive.

It was a challenge, issued by Joe, testing just how far he was willing to go before tossing the woman on her own and letting the others have their way with her. Bile was rising and burnt the back of his throat, threatening to pour out.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He took the last step and grabbed Carol's arms, not knowing what he would do, what was happening next. There was fear in her eyes, fear that tugged in his gut. He wanted to hug her, something so unnatural to him, and tell her everything would be okay. He wanted the Marauders dead. He wanted out of this shitstorm but he didn't want to leave her behind.

So many things he wanted, so little things he had any power over.

As she watched him make his way to her, having heard the bluff being called out, Carol felt frozen. They had discussed trying to avoid such a scenario and had tried to think of ways to lull Joe's suspicions away, but to no avail. They had taken extra care in making it look like Daryl had taken advantage of her, but it was all for nothing.

She saw the other pigs looking at her, leering at her, anticipating what was to come. Of course those assholes would want the first row to that show, as they couldn't play the main part. Carol had been abused but it had always been away from prying eyes: Ed had not been able to refrain himself and deal with his anger issues, but he had had a sense that what he was doing was wrong. Those men, they wanted to see her get abused, they wanted to see her debased. They wanted to bask in the glory of her humiliation and the pain they wanted to inflict on her, Daryl acting as a proxy for their violent tendencies. She could see them move closer, try to get a good angle at what they were about to witness, and she saw some of them reaching for their zippers, resting their hands on their groin, just fucking salivating at the thought of the show to come.

She had no doubt what the Marauders expected to happen, but she couldn't believe Daryl was coming to her, to do what they wanted him to do. The crowd wanted a show, and she felt like the gladiator thrown into the arena in the Roman Empire to be devoured by lions. She would fight for her life, she always would. Except… This was Daryl she was supposed to be fighting, and he was no lion, he was a fellow sacrifice. There were bad scenarios, and worse scenarios but this one beat them all. She just couldn't believe Daryl was intent on going through with it, but what other options were there?

She had vowed to herself after she had been rid of Ed that she would never be anybody's victim ever again, and so far while a prisoner, the archer had allowed her to not be a victim anymore or at least to have some semblance of control over what they were doing and what they weren't, in order to make her feel like she had some power in very small ways. As he walked to her, in what felt like slow motion, memories poured back in Carol's mind and she had to fight them while trying to find a way to … What was it she was trying to do? What options did she have? She was tied up though the noose was undone enough so that she could cook earlier. However it was nowhere near enough for her to be able to do anything. She couldn't throw a punch. If she grabbed something, her mobility range would still be reduced to almost nothing.

Death. That was the only thing on her mind. If Daryl tried anything… But he wouldn't… But Joe was making it impossible and the guy had to survive…. Death, she thought again, and while it was against her very nature, she thought about death, her own. If she died, if she killed herself, went berserk and got herself killed, Daryl would live.

But would he? If she made a move and tried to fight back, then Joe would know that she had been playing him and his fellow assholes by pretending to become more submissive. He would also know that Daryl had to be in on it though he wouldn't know in what capacity. If she stayed still and let Daryl damn his soul and go through with this new humiliation, she was losing herself for good. They would both be victims of the others and it would only be the beginning. What if one of the guys stabbed Daryl while he was on top of her, what then? She knew what would happen to her, she had no doubt or delusion about it. They'd kill her too.

The more she thought about it, the more it felt like they were doomed. Daryl not going through with it would mean his death, him doing it would mean both their deaths at a later point when the marauders would want a turn with her, not to mention the damages it would make to her psyche. There was a part of her that believed she could survive being used this way, that survival was so embedded in her, she could survive, but what would happen next? Another show, another display, new humiliations, until the pigs and Joe decided that they needed to spice up what they were forcing them to do? There was a chance Daryl would get killed and so would she. Was this what it all came down to? After days of fooling them, Daryl and her were not doomed, would die one way or another

Killing Joe… That would have worked for all of five minutes before the marauders found a new leader amongst themselves, someone less smart and less charismatic who wouldn't have a reasonable bone in their body. Killing all the marauders was not possible, two of them against the bunch of them just wasn't possible, especially with her hands tied.

Death. It seemed to all come down to it. Would they die now, or would they die later? How would they survive in the meantime? She barely knew Daryl but the little she knew told her he wouldn't be able to deal with this happening. He had barely been able to forgive himself for mauling her in front of the others. She had been able to put the experience behind, seeing the endgame and keeping her eyes on it at all cost, but he was different. He was that kind of guy, a fucking good guy and they were surrounded by assholes who would not give them a chance.

Was this day the day she became a victim again, the day she died, the day he died, or all of it at the same time?

Daryl made one more step towards her and their spot, his heart in his throat when suddenly, they heard the guttural sound they were too used to.

Walkers.

He had never been so happy for those fuckers in his entire life. He made a quick turn so that Carol was behind him and he looked at Joe who was eyeing the disruption with an annoyed expression. This changed completely when the door of the barn burst opened and they all realized it was not just one or two walkers, but a fuckload of them.

Daryl's mind and body got ready for a fight, blood pumping so hard he could hear it and feel it in his ears, adrenaline kicking in and leaving him amped up. There was no other door, they were stuck. He felt Carol's hand reaching out for him, and he looked at her, with her hands tied and the unreadable expression in her eyes. Almost out of instinct, he grabbed a knife from his gear and quickly cut the rope from her wrists before handing her the weapon.

The marauders were all up now and started fighting the walkers, who kept on pouring into the barn. Daryl jumped into the fight, taking out as many of those fuckers as he could, trying to keep Carol somewhere he could see her, to be able to help her but hell, she could hold her own. She was efficient and ruthless, heading straight for the head. There was no funny business and she didn't try to make their death amusing, as the marauders always did.

Len was barely holding his own, but Matthew and what's his name were around him. Joe had gotten his own knife but Harley had grabbed his gun and started shooting the dead, only attracting more of them. Joe punched him in the face, something he rarely did, always letting the others do his dirty business for him.

Daryl got lost in the fight, feeling more and more terrified as the walkers kept on getting in and the ones they had already put down now littering the ground were hindering their movements. They were toast, Daryl thought, with a quick look for Carol, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as she fought next to him, efficiently and feral-like. The marauders liked to think of themselves as wolves and maybe they had some traits that were wolf-life, but Carol, she was the she-wolf, the alpha in many ways. Daryl was amazed by her strength even though he knew she had to be a tough cookie to have survived so long, and having her on his side gave him a boost, the will to fight some more.

Walker after walker, he used his second knife as well as an arrow, he killed them, thinking that this was useless but he would not go down without giving it all he had. For a second, he lost sight of Carol. He turned around and saw she was trying to loosen up a plank from the barn.

This was genius. As the others had left them before in the corner when they had thought Daryl would become a sexual predator and give them a show, Carol and he were slightly isolated from the rest of the group, fighting together, back to back, in perfect sync. She gave him a look as she failed to remove the plank and he tossed her his knife, taking her place.

He would have splinters but he didn't care as he manage to remove one vertical plank. He tried to remove a second one but a walker surprised him, and he only had time to shove an arrow through the fucker's eye and into its brain.

They needed to run. He grabbed his bag and hers, then gestured for her to follow him through the hole he had created.

Walkers were waiting for them as they managed to slip through the narrow space, and they both killed a bunch of them, though they were less numerous on this side of the barn. Daryl tossed Carol her bag, and in sync, they ran, putting down more walkers on their way, never turning back to see what was happening to the motherfuckers who had made their lives hell.

They ran and walked, depending on how much energy they could muster, as the night was dark and the moon was hidden by clouds, giving them very little light to work with. At one point the clouds parted briefly and he noticed an abandoned trail. Daryl gestured to Carol, to let her know this had to be where the walkers had come from. Tacitly, they decided to use the trail which looked now deserted, the herd having gone one way. It was not the safest option, but they needed to disappear if the marauders, as the fucking cockroaches they were, made it through and decided to come after them. They were walking side by side, but always rotating around one another, in order to continue to have each other's back.

Hours went by and the sun started coming up. Daryl couldn't tell how far they had gone from the marauders, hoping they couldn't be traced, or only until a certain point.

She never stopped, never asked him for water, never said a word as they were on the same wavelength. The respect he had for her was endless he briefly thought, before gesturing for her to follow him and avoid a lonely walker on their path. If they left bodies behind, the marauders would be onto them like a shot.

They ran into the woods, away from the dead and its friends, until they ended up somewhere that felt far enough, at least for a stop.

"Think we're safe", he said, wiping the sweat and blood from his face.

Without a word, she pushed him against a tree and pushed her knife against his throat, trapping him.

"Carol…"

She was breathing heavily, and there was something in her eyes that he couldn't read. He gulped and felt the knife against his throat, almost cutting him.

She was strong, and he realized that she could effectively take him down.

"For Fuck's sake, Carol," he whispered.

He would not beg, but he had to get her back as she seemed to have disappeared somewhere in her head.

In this world, they didn't have the luxury to suffer from PTSD, but it sure felt like it.

"You don't know me, Carol, but my actions… They speak for themselves," he tried to tell her.

He realized he had never said her name as much in all the time they had been together, but it felt necessary to remind her of who she was and who he was and what he'd already done to keep her safe. She had his life in her hands.

She looked at him and her eyes were full of too many emotions for him to understand them all.

"You're right," she finally said. "You don't fucking know me. I could kill you right now, slit your throat and let you turn. I could hurt you."

"I would never have hurt you," he said, thinking back about what he had almost had to do and how he had hoped to not do it for real. "I wouldn't have raped you. I'm not that guy."

He didn't mention how he would have done things if Joe and the rest of the others had waited for him to rape her, but he needed her to know. He could tell she was overwhelmed, from the fear of new abuse, and the fight for their lives. After a week of constant terror of the men they were walking with, she seemed to have snapped. He never expected gratitude, and truth be told this was closer to how he would have imagined she should react day after day.

His life was in her hands. Even if he tried to get free, she would cut the carotid before falling and he would be a goner.

"You do not know me," she said again, and she had never looked more feral, not even when she had been killing walkers left and right by his side. "Here is a tip. I'm good at surviving. Hell, I'm amazing at survival. You'd think I wasn't, like some old guy, and for a while I would have told you that I was bound to die, but I survived," she spat out with anger, tears in her eyes. "I fucking lost everything, but I survived. I do that. Survive."

She kept on saying the word like she wanted to get the point across, but there was no need for that. He didn't say it, though, waiting to see what she would do next.

"I could kill you. I could fucking kill you, and probably survive," she said again, pressing the knife against his throat, and blood had to be pearling. "Men, they think because I'm a woman, I need protection. I protect my own, always, even when they won't see what I'm doing is all for them."

She was lost and he had no idea how to get her back. This was it, he thought. He had protected her for a while, because it also meant protecting himself, but not only. It was the moment when she decided, if what he had put her through to make her survive should be punished, and while he was a survivor, would always be a survivor, there was a small part of him who felt at peace, ready to accept her sentencing. He closed his eyes, and was surprised by the peace he felt, as he laid his life at her feet, waiting for her to do what she had to do. He didn't want her to look at him and waver. She had lost everything, and she was finally claiming back her freedom. How ironic, given it all began when he had claimed her.

"Men fucking rape you and push you around, make you believe you're useless, and you believe them, because if you dare think otherwise, then it's worse. I am not a victim anymore," she said each word pointedly.

His eyes shot open, as he knew she needed him to acknowledge her words, and her pain, what she had gone through in the past, before and after the world had ended.

"Men kill women. It's the fucking apocalypse, and guess what, we still get killed because we're women. But not I. Not anymore. I survive. No matter the cost, I survive. Even when I want to die, I survive."

"What are you gonna do?" he asked her.

It was her moment, it was about her and everything she had been through.

"I will not let a man kill me," she said. "That time is gone. I do the killing. I do the surviving. I stay on this goddamn Earth even when I don't want to."

She looked at him, straight in his eyes, and he didn't speak, just gave her a look, so honest it hurt, as he waited for her to decide.

"I survive," she said again.

Then she removed the knife from his throat, and he felt like the biggest burden of all time had been lifted from his shoulders.

She had chosen. She had chosen to let him live.

"We need to go North," she spoke after a while.

She still looked shaken, but she had made her choice and they were staying together.

He nodded, and silently, they kept on walking as quickly as possible, far away from the marauders.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun rose and set for three days and not a single word was shared between the two of them. It was silence and running and staying alert just to stay alive. Words were not needed, as they organized almost instinctively. There was no schedule for when they stopped or when they kept running, they seemed to both know without a word when the other needed a break. They had taken to sleeping back to back on the same mat, as they had only one, which allowed them to see the walkers coming. It just would have been a shame getting killed by brain-dead fuckers after they had escaped the marauders, now wouldn't it?

Carol was good at surviving, and Daryl was not too shady himself, something she had suspected back at the quarry and gotten proof of later on. They knew the sounds of the forest and how dangerous it was when you couldn't hear anything. They slept short nights, neither of them keeping watch, as it would have meant standing more time in the same place, and they couldn't afford it.

The day before, they had almost run into one of the bloody marauders, quite probably Harley, moaning about Matthew having been killed during the attack on the barn and the way it meant more work for them as Len was still lame. Daryl and Carol had shared a surprised look upon hearing Len was still alive. If there had been one guy who they would have bet would have been wiped during the attack, it would have been the injured asshat, not the young assshat who was healthier and stealthier. Then she had thought that maybe Matthew hadn't been killed by walkers, or maybe he had been sacrificed by someone else in the group, seeing his potential as a threat. The look on Daryl's face had led her to believe this was where his mind had gone too, except he had seemed more certain of it. She wasn't sure how to explain it. She just knew it from his face. Similarly she was certain Len's days would be ending soon, even before Harley mentioned he would be getting rid of the guy.

It appeared that the Marauders were following a somewhat similar itinerary to theirs, and she wondered where the hell they were going. She knew where she was going, but this pack of rats? No idea.

After she had almost slit Daryl's throat, Carol had had only one thought on her mind: Lilah. She needed to finish her trip, she needed to see her sister's grave. She needed to tell her she was still alive, not in a taunting way, but to soothe her. She was still alive, and that was the only thing Lilah had ever wanted. Even the ghost version of her had been pushing her older sister to survive another day, another night, another moment.

Daryl was letting her lead, and he had never asked her where they were going, which stirred up many feelings in her. First, she was flattered by his trust, not in a coquette-ish fashion, but because it sure was a nice change from the life she had had to go through before. She also felt a sense of duty toward him: as he was following her on her quest without asking, she felt like it was her duty to make sure he made it back. She remembered having read the Lord of the Rings books with Sophia, and she wondered if that blind trust made him the Sam to her Frodo, until she had decided they were probably two Sams, both battered and hurt, trying to take the other all the way where they needed to go. There was no hero in their stories, let alone in the life that was now their own.

A part of her felt slightly uneasy, wondering if she should tell him where they were going, yet not knowing how to start that conversation. "We're going to see my dead sister and tell her I didn't let Ed kill me" seemed like a real crappy opener.

Yet it was the truth.

She sort of wanted him to know, but most importantly, she wanted him to care, and she couldn't tell why to save her life. She had seen him follow Merle, and follow Joe's merry group in some ways. She had inferred that he had followed them before until she had come along, and she wondered if she was the next person he was following blindly. AS satisfying it was to have his trust, she wanted him to care if she lived or died, where they were going and what would be waiting for them at the end of the road.

She didn't want to be a leader, had never wanted to be one. She had only wanted to make it one day at a time. If he was trusting her blindly as he did, then shouldn't he know where they were going? Shouldn't he know why they would be likely to cross paths or have to hide from the marauders again? She could take the lead but she didn't want to be the leader if it made any sense. She needed to know his trust was not blind, but either out of instinct, or out of actual confidence in her.

She blamed it on the old reflexes of the abused woman she had been, wanting to be sure the person she was with was in it for good and not because they were preying on her. It still mattered, a lot.

The opportunity came the following day, when they had to hide once more from part of the marauders, and Carol wondered again what the hell they were doing there. Silently, using code signs only they knew the meaning of, Carol and Daryl escaped and didn't stop for a few hours, to make sure they hadn't been followed or even noticed by their nemesis.

As they stopped and tried to keep their breathing under control, she found herself asking:

"What the hell are those jerks doing around here? You were there when we were with them. What the hell are they looking for?"

"Nothin'," Daryl said. "They just go 'round in circles. There's this asylum, Terminus," he said, looking very unconvinced by what he was saying, "and they're trying to stay away from it. Afraid they would fall on a big community and not be the alpha dogs. So they run in a circle."

"And you followed them?" Carol asked bewildered at the notion.

This was so stupid, running around parts they knew in order to avoid getting to Terminus? Just go fucking West or East or whatever, don't follow the signs, Carol thought.

"Had nothing better to do. Didn't notice at first we were going round and round, until I claimed you and I'm sure we slept in a couple of places I'd stayed before with the pack of wolves. Think they're trying to avoid Terminus but also want to stay close enough, to get to the people seeking refuge, and do their thing."

"Fuck," she said, royally pissed at the prospect that they would indeed always be in near proximity as she led them her way.

"Where we going?" Daryl finally asked and she felt relief at the question.

Maybe he was following her out of habit, but by asking, he was becoming an active part of their group, if he chose to stay.

"We're going to see my sister's grave."

To say he had expected anything but this would be an understatement. Daryl hid his surprise but had a moment of nodding along to what Carol was saying without really knowing why he was nodding.

She was looking at him and he realized he was probably still nodding. Wanting to kick himself in the ass, he asked:

"Why?"

"I never got to say goodbye."

He waited, feeling like she wanted to tell him more but she wasn't sure he would listen. So he did that, listen.

"Ed would not let me attend her funeral, which was almost a decade ago. I was with people before, with a group, and they… they kicked me out, or the leader did. When he did, I wondered what was left for me, and I told myself that I wouldn't allow myself to die or be killed, until I had seen my sister's grave, finally," she said, almost shyly. "I was on my way there, when I ran into you and the claimers."

There were so many facets to this woman. One minute she was threatening to gut you like a pig, and the next she was telling you things that made her feel vulnerable, because… Why did she do that? He briefly wondered, then the answer appeared to him: because she deemed him worthy. Because she wanted him to know.

That was a change, for sure. When he had gone along with Merle, before the world turned to shit, he had never asked where they were going nor what they would be doing, and when with Joe's band, it had been the same. He had followed, until he found someone else to follow. He sounded like a leech he thought. He didn't follow people because he lacked imagination, he followed people because they were at the very least a means to an end, when they were not worthy of being followed, period. His heart went out to Merle, who would have probably hated the sentiment, and Daryl felt the bond he had with Carol tighten a little, as it seemed to make more sense.

Another thing they had in common, a sibling they missed. They needed to stop bonding over terrible past stories and the way they fooled the marauders.

"Ok," He said.

It was not much, but he hoped it conveyed everything he wanted to say. Okay, he thought in his head. A weird thought popped in his brain at the most inconvenient time, as such thoughts always did. He seemed to remember going to school and his English teacher telling them about the various origins of the word okay, and that one of it was that it stood for "zero killed". He didn't know why he remembered that bit, but all he could think was that it was a pretty ironic thing to say when they were talking about the dead they were mourning.

Though were they talking? She was. She was sharing, but he was just keeping silent. It was not that he didn't want to share. He just didn't know how. Merle had never been the chatty type, unless he wanted to taunt him, and he had never had someone significant enough in his life to try the whole talking and sharing thing.

"Am sorry, 'bout your sister," He said.

"I'm sorry about your brother," she said.

He remembered the way she had taunted him a week or so before when he had taken her hostage. They sure had come a long way in a short time, then again, this apocalypse thing… It fucked up with everything you thought you knew.

He felt a ball in his throat and realized that it was very much like a ball of feelings he wanted to express yet they stayed stuck in his throat, choking him.

"How was she?" He found himself asking, genuinely curious about her answer.

Carol took a gulp from the gourd she was carrying. She looked deep in thought, the pain visible in her eyes and in the way she held herself. He wanted to apologize, he had not meant to hurt her.

"Fearless," She finally answered. "Fucking fearless."

"So it runs in the family?" He said.

She chuckled as if he had told a joke and he was struck with memories of how quiet and afraid she had been at the quarry. It was hard to reconcile those memories with the ones he had of her killing walkers and helping him escape, then again… Just because you found the will to do something didn't have to mean you were not feeling fear.

"Oh, Daryl Dixon," Carol finally said, using his last name to chastise him the way most of his old teachers did, except when it was her doing it, it didn't irk him as much.

"You should know better,' she went on. "I'm always afraid. Afraid for you, afraid for me, afraid for the people who used to be my people and have parted ways with me."

The way he was put first in the list made him feel warm inside and he would have blushed, had he been that kind of guy.

"I just try not to let it guide me. Fear makes you stupid, stupid gets you killed. And I think we've already established that I survive."

He nodded though he did roll his eyes a little, for show.

He had followed only a handful of people in his life, but when she had decided that they were in this together, he realized that while it had begun as following her, letting her take the lead, it ran deeper now. They were travelling together. When they would get to her sister's grave, they would discuss where to go next.

His opinion would be valued, his input asked for and listened to. What a change.

They started traveling again, and Carol felt invigorated by their small talk. It had been deep, mind you, but very few words had been exchanged, carrying more words that didn't need to be said.

He could have said hell no and left her to rot, deciding that going to her sister's grave was nothing he cared about. He could have not asked, and not cared.

But he hadn't. He had cared, and listened. He hadn't asked her where Lilah's grave was, but she knew he was counting on her to get them there, not questioning the choice in destination.

A traveling companion was something completely new. When she had been with Rick and the group, he had gone full dictator on them and it hadn't felt anything like this. Maybe at the very beginning, in the day and a half when they had gone to the CDC and lost Sophia, it had been nicer, as she remembered the promise to take her and her baby alongside the Grimes to the Grand Canyon but it had been fleeting, and quickly swept away by the terror she had felt when losing her daughter.

So they walked.

Silence was still their modus operandi, if only for survival, but she felt like they had crossed a bridge of some sort.

That night, when they stopped for sleep, there was a feeling about their small camp, like they understood the other better and it made a difference she had not expected.

The next day was uneventful, blissfully and they were able to cover more ground. When they stopped for lunch, he skinned a rabbit he had caught and they started a small fire, locking themselves into a house, to make sure the smell would not betray them to the walkers or the claimers.

"Thank you," she said when he handed her half the rabbit.

He gave her a look, which she supposed was a "you're welcome", and they ate their meal. They were quickly done with it, but they stayed seated a little longer.

"I used to have a house like that," she said as she looked around at the living room. "Or Ed did."

"Housewife, hum?"

"Of course. Didn't matter that I could have brought home a second income, Ed needed me isolated and scared. I remember bringing Sophia to school and finding myself unable to bond with the other parents. Ed was a weak asshole but his hold on me was spot on."

Daryl nodded along, as if he could relate to what she was saying in a way.

"Sorry." She said when she realized she had shared, or maybe overshared.

She had been alone for so long, she wasn't used to having someone willing to listen to anything she had to say.

"Don't be," Daryl said.

They started walking again, escaping walkers and claimers, day after day. Having to circle around them made the trip longer than it had been the other way around. They had to stay hidden for six hours in a basement once, when Dan and Harley had burst in the house they were in. Thankfully, they hadn't done anything that would have let the others know the house had known inhabitants after whoever it belonged to had come and gone. They had run into the basement, fucking up the door so that it stayed locked, and they waited, not making a sound as they heard the claimer try to open the door, then finally decide it was not worth it as they found some cans of food and ate them right away so that they wouldn't have to share those with the others.

Daryl and Carol had looked at each other, knowingly. They had known they were in trouble, he had seen the lengths they went to to be violent and destructive, but there was something frightening about the fact that the claimers, though united under Joe's rule, were still very much their own person. Carol remembered the people from the prison, how every piece of good would automatically belong to everyone. The claimers didn't abide to such rules. They took and they kept for themselves. How she longed for Joe to be dead so that the group would tear itself apart and a few would drop dead. Sure, there would be more dirtbags on this Earth, and more walkers, but having them become walkers would feel damn good.

When the two marauders had left and they were finally free, she spoke in a low voice.

"My old group… they were not perfect, far from it, and we had issues, but when we found food, it didn't get hoarded away."

He didn't say anything but looked to approve of what she was saying.

"Do you remember Glenn?" She asked, "from the quarry?"

"Chinese guy?" he said, as he seemed to be searching his memories with the name.

"Korean, actually. But you do remember him. I wouldn't have been able to keep score of the number of times he went on runs for people. He was our go to guy when someone needed a run done. Even after the quarry, and the farm, hell even at the prison… He was always willing. I'm sure there were runs he would have liked to skip, but he always went. Drove Maggie crazy."

He gave her a puzzled look, and she had a smile and a soft sigh when she remembered he knew nothing of everything the people from Atlanta had gone through, how it had been the eleven of them when they had left the quarry, and how it had been the four of them just before she had left the prison.

She wondered how he would have fitted in, and if he would still have been with them.

How different their lives would have been… Yet, they had found each other again, and had gone through a new inner circle of hell together, and made it out alive.

"Thank you," she told him, feeling like she meant it for the first time.

"Whatever for?" He asked.

"For claiming me. It took guts to do that, in that pack of wolves. You did an incredible thing. You allowed me to make it through and come out on the other side. I cheated death again, thanks to you. So there it is, don't bask in it, but thanks. You're a good man, Daryl Dixon."

He started grunting, looking at his feet, not crossing her eyes, and she was reminded of a young boy who didn't want to be praised.

Though with Daryl, she had a feeling it was more about whether or not he felt the praise was warranted, and he clearly seemed to believe it was not.

"Come on," she said, trying to catch his eyes, almost reaching out to touch him.

She didn't dare and she only had her words to convince him to listen to her.

"You think it's easy for me to tell you that I'm glad you claimed me and pretended to abuse me? Think about it. I have to mean it unless I'm a fucking masochist who likes to be debased by people. You may not know me that well, but you do know me," she said emphasizing the last verb, to make it stand out.

She heard words mumbled in his beard, involving lots of swearing but he finally looked at her, and she felt at peace with what had happened to them.

"Thank you." She said again. "Now don't be a prick, take the compliment and don't make me tell it again. Give me a break, and while you're at it, give yourself a break too."

He would have blushed, she was sure of it, for he looked so uncomfortable the next step would have had to be blushing.

Praises hadn't been something he had been given often, she thought. She just could tell. The few things she knew about him or inferred about him led her back to that certainty therefore it felt even more important for him to believe her words.

And he did. It was not a spontaneous thing, it took lots of staring, of broadcasting to him that she was standing her ground and calling him a good man, and she saw him finally let the compliment wash over him. She saw the way he finally allowed it to sink in, and how for a brief moment he allowed himself to bask in it.

She smiled at him and he nodded, though he still looked as uncomfortable as her date had looked on her prom when seen in his tux. Charlie had been a bad boy or used to think of himself as such, and when he had had to clean up to take her to prom he had looked gutted about the fact that for once he would be blending in. In ways, Daryl reminded her of Charlie, or the other way around. Both had stepped up, in vastly different contexts, for her. She flashed him another smile, and they went back on the road.

"So, Glenn…"

As they walked, she started telling him about the group he had briefly been a part of, about the losses and the people they had met, the nemeses they had encountered or created for themselves. She told him in a low voice, always trying to make sure no one would hear them, waiting for a moment when they were in the clear, to tell him just a tad more of a story he could have lived.

As she did, and didn't shy away from telling him about Ed's last abuse, and mentioned the several occasions he had been abusive before, explaining why she had been the way she had back at the quarry, when they had met but never known each other, she felt warmth in her soul. He listened to everything she had to say, never looked annoyed or uninterested. Once or twice, he even prompted her, to go back on something she had said. Her words had power, as they gave away a story the same way one would have told a fairy tale, but they also told another story, her own. Every anecdote she told gave him a little more to read in between the lines, to understand her if he wanted to, and to her delight and surprised, he wanted to. He was a captive audience, even if he always kept an ear to the ground, making sure they were safe as she talked. He never asked about her life before, and the way Ed used to debase her, but she found herself telling him about that also, as she told him stories of her life when she had been a mother with a living daughter. Those anecdotes could have bored him to death, but he seemed to find once again something he could relate too in the tales. She wondered how much he could relate to what Sophia's life had been like, as she was more and more certain he had been abused as a child, and how much he could relate to the things she had suffered. There was no doubt in her mind, and the way he listened to the stories only made her feel more certain that her initial assessment of him back at the quarry had been right: he was a fellow survivor of abuse, and he seemed to take some comfort in her stories. Was it because he was hearing he was not and had not been alone in his suffering? Was it because he saw the pain it still caused in her being? Truth be told, she wasn't sure she cared. It soothed her, to tell it out loud.

Yes, she was an outcast. Yes, her family had decided through the voice of their pater familias Ricktator Grimes that she would not be one of their own, but against all odds she had survived and she was not alone, she had found Daryl.

 _ **Story is not done, reviews are music to my soul, concrit is welcome. I would like tot hank all of you for still being with me (and them) on this journey**_


	9. Chapter 9

He could tell she was growing restless as they got closer and closer to the general area where her sister was supposed to be buried. She had been honest about the fact that she didn't know exactly where the grave was, having never been allowed to visit, but she knew her parents had gotten special permission from the State in order to be able to bury their youngest daughter somewhere on land they owned. It seemed her family, the Millers, had been big-wigs before shit had started happening and they had been able to pull some strings here and there.

It was more than practical, as he would have been reluctant to enter a cemetery and looked for a single grave amongst many, where there would have been walkers, but Carol had warned him that her parents' estate did not have fences. There was still a chance they could be walking into a populated land where the dead were kings. It had been a place where many people had lived, and more than a few had probably turned. It was all a question of luck, praying that those who had changed had decided to make a trip somewhere else to find food to nourish themselves.

He was willing to take the risk though because he could see how much it meant to her. Having heard her stories, from before the apocalypse and when it had started, he could see so many things he never would have guessed before. She needed to see her sister, to finally free herself of the hold Ed had on her, and he was pretty sure she hadn't realized yet this was the reason she had embarked on this quest. It was both about going back to her roots, to a life before she had become a prisoner in her own house and in her own mind, and about embracing the person she had become. The stories she had told him made it clear to him that she wasn't just on a crusade for her own sake but that she was seeking validation from the only person who mattered, her old self, or maybe the person she thought she should have become. Going back to see her sister was very much a crusade to face her old self, or her previous self and say simply that it was okay to have travelled so many miles both literally and figuratively to get where she was now. He felt like even though she would stand by every choice she had made especially those following her husband's death, Carol had never perhaps pretended to be good with the things she had done while seeking some sort of approval, divine or humane.

He could only relate too well to this quest for validation, though he would never say it out loud. His whole relationship with his brother had been about having Merle say he was doing good, or just plain ok, and he had never gotten it. The Dixon brothers were not that kind of people, even when one of them had been dying to hear the words which would have changed so much for them both. The Dixon brothers would never have been the same with those few words being said, and Daryl would have taken the risk to see their relationship evolve. Who knew, they might have both come out better structured persons. The validation they had never had from society, it had been theirs to grant on each other.

Instead, he had followed. Now he was walking alongside someone who was not afraid to tell him that he was a good man and even if he didn't believe it truly, or wouldn't believe it period, it felt like a whole new chapter in his life was starting. She was relentless though, and wouldn't let him off that hook, that "good guy" hook, even though she never said the words again, and it left a scar on his mind, a scar he welcomed for once, compared to the others he sported. She was giving him what he had never really known he needed, and he wasn't sure how much he needed, but she kept on giving him, just that, whatever it was, that thing that made him think that maybe, just maybe, he had been and would be something else rather than an abused kid who had never really been protected and had had to rely on himself from a very young age. It finally felt like maybe, he didn't have to anymore. Better late than never he supposed. It felt surreal to have had to come so far, and to have had to do so many things he was not proud of in the least to finally hear those words he had craved. The fact that it was Carol, not from the quarry, but from the farm, and the tombs and the prison saying it was another surprise that was not lost on him.

Her stories had given him much to think about, in ways he had not anticipated. The stories, the trajectories the others had followed had sometimes surprised him, or felt like a sure thing for some, yet it all felt alien. He had known those people, and those they had met later on, thanks to Carol's vivid descriptions, he felt like he knew them. It had been in her words.

Like, he had never cared for Lori, as a person when she had been at camp, but when he had heard the way her husband Rick aka Lazarus had treated her when she was pregnant, he had felt ... things for lack of a better word. Carol had not blamed the guy or even Carl the young boy, but he had heard the pain she had felt at the way her friend was being treated, and when Lori had died giving birth to her daughter, Daryl had felt genuinely sad. He was pretty sure he was sadder for Carol than he had been for Lori herself, but still, he had not expected it.

The stories she had told had given him insight on persons who had barely been on his radar back at the quarry, like Glenn. The guy had been so much more than had met the eyes back then, Daryl almost found himself regretting not having gotten to know him. Then again, maybe the boy would not have been worthy of his interest before certain things had happened to him.

It all felt like a parallel universe, in which he could have perhaps found his place but they would never know.

He had only Carol's versions of things, but she had been so candid with everything she had shared, he couldn't believe for a second she could have painted anyone in an unfavorable light to make herself shine. In fact, she had been honest to a fault, questioning her own behavior more than the others. That guy, Lazarus, or Rick, had clearly been a dick with some anger issues, but she still wouldn't say that he had banished her, they had parted ways in her narrative, because she had stopped fitting in the community as the others saw it. From what he had heard, Daryl had to wonder how much the others had agreed with the leaders' choice to exile her. Glenn's girl, Maggie, seemed to have taken a liking to Carol, if the story about her being glad for the survival skills of the grey haired fox were true, and having her thrown out must have rubbed her the wrong way, unless the woman was brain dead, or scared.

It was stupid, but travelling with Carol felt so much like a journey with a good friend, or just a friend, he sometimes forgot about the apocalypse for a second. It had to impact everything that had happened, but sometimes Daryl found himself wondering how much of their true selves people had started showing thanks to the end of the world, knowing they had nothing to lose, and everything to win by being whom they were at heart. Shane, or Sheriff Asshole as he used to think of him had certainly showed his true colors and their many shades as time went by. Daryl felt like if anybody else would have told him that story, he would have felt much more strongly about the part Lori would have played or may have played in the guy's downfall, but the way Carol had explained it, full of nuances and precautions made him see that you couldn't blame the guy's behavior on a woman. It was unfair. He knew Carol's past was very important and significant to the way she told the story, and he was glad for it, in as much as they had so many things in common, even though he had not told her.

It felt like the one step he couldn't take, talk about what he had seen and where he had been, prior to the Apocalypse or after. The most surprising thing to him was the fact that she didn't expect him to share back, to tell her all he had been through. She just gave, through her words, everything she had and everything she stood for without waiting for something in return.

Lazarus had been an ass to ever let her go, no matter what she had done. People in glass houses and all that... The guy was throwing stones and one day, the house would collapse on him. Daryl was glad Carol was out of that house but he was sorry for Carl and baby Judith who would probably still be inside when it would happen.

The life he was living, he wouldn't trade it for the world and his new companion surely made this impression even more certain to him. He didn't know how he would have fitted in, in that group, with Merle and his big mouth, or how he would have been able to deal with his blind toward his brother, and the one he hoped he would have felt towards Carol. He hoped he would have gravitated in her orbit, for what he saw from her now showed him how much she was deserving of his trust.

Those were ifs and maybe, and you couldn't bank on those. Still, he wondered.

This woman was certainly impacting in a big way the way he saw the world. It had been only a few days yet she had become necessary to the way he hoped things would happen next. It barely made sense and once again he blamed it on the apocalypse changing everything. When things went to shit in a second, you only had your instinct and he prided himself on having good instinct. His past had given him the tools, through pain and bad experiences, to judge things and people in the blink of an eye. His opinion could change, certainly, but it didn't happen overnight, and it was generally due to people changing themselves, thus making him change his mind.

But yeah, lots of things to mule over from what she had told him, and the things she hadn't told him, not to mention the way she had told certain things. Everything about her was about layers and reading between the lines, and realizing there were more lines, and still looking for what she meant. It was not because he couldn't understand what she said, but because he just couldn't let it rest. He could see or hear there was more to a story, or that the words she had chosen had a meaning in that story and he wanted to know why. Hell, he needed to know why. She was like a book, where every line was an open door to a new world, and he was suddenly realizing he had been a reader all his life, or maybe she had turned him into one overnight. He just couldn't stop thinking about her words, the way she processed things, the stories she told and the lesson she took from them.

It was a crash course on everything Carol née Miller formerly Peletier stood for, and it was intoxicating.

***

As they came closer to the place where she knew she would find her sister, things got quiet, a bit too calm for Carol's taste. Every day had been about surviving, whether alone or in a group. Every day had been making it to the next day, surviving through the night and adding another notch on the metaphorical wall where she would have marked every day she stayed alive. She wasn't too sure if it would have started with the moment the turn had become public knowledge, or if she had also counted and kept score of every day she had spent under Ed's thumb, no matter when it started it still made a lot of marks on an invisible wall in her head.

The closer they got to her parents' estate, the more memories assaulted her, and she found herself sharing more and more, about before, about a time she hadn't dared think about for so long it felt like a life she had lived previously until she had become Mrs. Peletier.

Songs were coming back to her too, and she found herself humming more often than not. Daryl gave her a slight look when she did it the first few times but he never seemed to mean for her to stop, only looked at her like he was wondering what she was thinking about, yet didn't dare ask. Sometimes she shared, and sometimes, she just enjoyed the melody.

As they were maybe three miles away from their destination, a song got stuck in her head, Imagine by John Lennon, and she found herself chuckling.

It felt like a foreign sound, even more than her humming voice had felt like, for she hadn't really laughed or done anything of the sort in a long time.

"What's so funny?" Daryl asked, and she could see the hint of a smile on his lips, like he couldn't help himself but he also wanted her to have that moment to herself if it needed to stay private.

"Lilah, she loved John Lennon."

He gave her a look, and she went on.

"I don't know how familiar you are with his songs, but there's this song, "Imagine", about a world where there is no war, but when you take the lyrics apart, it seems different now, in this whole new world of ours."

The smile lingered on his lips as she searched for the exact lyrics that had made her laugh.

"Imagine there's no heaven, it's easy if you try, no hell below us, above us only sky."

She wanted to chuckle again.

"It's this fucking world, ain't it? No heaven, no hell below us, as we live in it, with the sky watching as humankind changes drastically. People believe this song is about world peace, and joining the human race as a whole so that there's no war anymore, but it says nothing of the inhumane race, the walkers. What if he had seen it? What if he was already thinking about this world of ours?"

It was silly, but for some reason it stuck in her head.

"John Lennon, the fucking prophet, who would have known?" Daryl finally said.

His smile was so contagious, and it was so silly, she broke out laughing. Of course, that was when hell broke loose, again.

They had been too focused on their private joke, they hadn't seen the couple of walkers and their buddies walking their way. They saw them when those dead men walking were almost upon them, and in trying to get to them the walkers managed to run into a fucking beehive of all things.

Daryl and Carol found themselves swarmed by furious bees, fucking furious bees, who were seeking revenge for the destruction of their home, on the only alive beings around, the two who hadn't come near the bloody hive.

To say they were amazed in a bedazzled fashion would not have been an overstatement. The walkers stopped, as some of the bees tried to have a bite of them before deciding the dead were of no interest to them, but the living were.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered, as they started running to escape the fucking insects.

This was a first, for both of them. In this world, everything was a danger, the living and the dead, but they hadn't expected nature to turn their back on them either.

They ran and ran as the bees followed, and Carol grabbed Daryl's wrist, as she recognized their surroundings. He didn't try to shake her off, or anything, only let her lead him where she wanted to. There was no "trust me" uttered, it was not needed. If they hadn't been chased by wild bees, she would have gushed. Maybe.

She remembered playing in those parts as a young girl. There was a place they could escape the bees, which were especially aggressive. She wondered if there had been a turn of some sort for them too, or if things happening on Earth had forced everything to be more aggressive. Then again, if their queen had been killed, maybe they were fueled with extra rage? She just didn't know enough about bees. It was 300 yards from where the beehive had been destroyed that she found what she had been looking for, a cliff over a large pond.

Daryl tried to gauge the distance between them and the water, and he must have seen the trust and faith in her eyes, or just have plain trusted her, for he held on her hand, and they jumped into the depths of the water below.

The cool of the water felt more than welcomed on their heated skin, both from the exertion of the run, and the Georgian weather. She was pleased to see she had not been mistaken and this had been the place where her sister and her used to jump into the water during the summer, when they were both children, reckless perhaps, but just brave and carefree. She didn't let go of his hand under the water, and she noticed that he didn't let go either. She made some gestures, meaning they needed to stay under the water for as long as they could, and he nodded. His hair was framing his face in a weird fashion, water playing with the strands, and she wondered how many people ever got to see him look so carefree, for that's what he looked like. The water was washing over his features, and the fatigue seemed to leave his face. He looked younger.

His eyes were open, and he was looking at her too. She wondered what he saw, and what he was thinking but it was neither the time nor especially the place to start a discussion. She could tell she would not last much longer without air, so she started swimming taking him with her. She made a gesture, and they both swam for the surface. Breaking free and breathing in deeply was amazing, she had almost forgotten why they had done what they had done. The bees were gone, having lost interest in them. Emerging from the water, she felt like a new woman. It had been so long since she had been able to submerge herself in water... When on the run on her own, she had never dared let herself be so vulnerable and take a bath in one of the many rivers and lakes of Georgia. It had been painful at times as she had been too aware of the state she was in.

She plunged her head again in the water as she heard him play in the water, immersed himself, and grunt as he seemed to be having so much fun in the lake. They were making noise, allowing themselves to be free. The walkers were slow, and they would have time to see them come if they followed their lead to the water. They laughed, as they swam, enjoying the depth and coolness of the water. It was a break they had never dared hope for. She thought of their weapons, but as they didn't plan to stay in the water forever until they grew gills, she supposed the guns would be fine and they'd be able to dry them.

They swam till their feet finally touched the bottom of the lake, and they got rid of their bags on the dry land, as they swam around just a bit more. It was perfect in its way, a breather, meant to be short but to boost them up for what was to come. She had almost forgotten about her sister, and the rest of their family, the destination of their journey. She forced herself out of the water, watching him play like a young wild dog in the water. He was so free, and she felt like that too. He didn't care about her eyes on him and she felt the same. There was comfort, and even, intimacy. They were strangers but in many ways they were closer than she had been to most of her friends in her whole life.

He finally got back to the shore and emerged from the water, shaking himself like a dog, throwing water everywhere, and she laughed harder. It felt so good to be able to simply laugh.

"Man, that was fun!" He exclaimed and he looked so young in that instant, like he was barely out of teenage hood, like he was not carrying the weight of his personal history on his shoulders… He looked like Atlas free for a moment of his burdens, and she never wanted it to end.

She noticed his eyes on her face and saw that he was doing his best to keep his eyes on hers. She took a look down her shirt and realized that it had become completely transparent. She didn't really care, just basking in the feeling of freedom, yet she felt elated that he was seeing her as a woman, simply a woman, whose tits he tries not to stare at, like civilization hadn't bailed on them. Another feeling she hadn't experience in years, being able to bask in who she was, and not wonder how it would displease her husband.

This was almost too good.

They got to the actual shore, and she took off her shirt, thankful for the tank top underneath even though it was even more transparent than the shirt, as she wrung the shirt in order to get rid of the excess water. She would not be taking her pants off, feeling woman-shy, another long lost feeling. She had great legs, before everything had gone wrong in her life, and then she had lost weight and she wasn't sure where she was at anymore. It felt so out of context, given they were in survival mode, but she allowed herself modesty, and self-consciousness for a bit, not in a destructive self-constrictive fashion, but simply as a woman who didn't want to bare herself almost naked in front of a guy, no matter how good he was, before she felt ready.

Where was this thought coming from?

He turned his back on her, to give her her privacy and started by removing his vest. She kept her eyes on him, ready to shy them away if he took off more than she could handle but she couldn't picture him getting buck naked when they were on the run, no matter how free they felt. Through his dirty shirt, she thought she saw something, and when he removed the piece of garment, she saw it. Them.

Scars. So many scars. Another proof she didn't need of the story that was his and only his to tell.

He seemed to realize she was being silent and had stopped laughing, and spun around like a mad man, pulling back his t-shirt trying to hide this painful reminder of his.

She felt lost, awestruck, and more. There was this look in his eyes, like he was disgusted by what she had seen? But it made no sense. Those scars were part of him, and she would never judge him for what they stood for.

He grunted and grunted some more, as the t-shirt stuck to his back and he looked just about ready to go back in the water or run back to the walkers to make the moment stop.

"Daryl," Carol said softly.

He wouldn't look at her.

"Daryl," she called again. "Please."

There was a look on his face like he wanted to disappear and never ever address what she had witnessed, but this was not who she was, and part of her felt like this was not what he needed.

"Daryl," she said again, sitting on the muddy shore. "You've heard my battered wife stories, and more. You know about the scars I carry inside though they don't show. Don't ever think for a second your scars could mean anything bad for me, or would make me think less of you. You're a survivor, too."

He turned around, and kept on grunting. She didn't push it more, though she felt extremely distressed by the fact on how much he seemed to hate himself, for having shown inadvertently something he was used to keeping a secret. She didn't go around sharing her stories with just anyone, and she hoped it would make him feel like he was not the only one who was vulnerable, but most important that he would realize she did not judge him for his scars, only despised the people who had inflicted them on him.

Words had been her ally so far, but right now they felt like a hindrance, so she kept silent, and hoped to let him cope. She needed him to come back to her or this partnership of theirs was doomed, and it scared her shitless.

Though they were close, they found a spot for the night early on, as Carol needed time before she went back to a place where she had been naïve and free, where she had been a sister and a daughter, and most importantly her very own person. They didn't say a word, the incident with his scars still between them, like a gap they couldn't cross, a tear they couldn't mend. She didn't want to nag, only hoped he would be able to read her the same way he had before and see what he needed to get to be able to understand the words she had spoken.

It was a weird night, as she couldn't sleep, too wired at the thought that she would soon be reaching the end of her journey, and he tossed and turned too, for different reasons that broke her heart.

When morning came, they were on their feet and operational very quickly. No words were exchanged, they just moved forward. They had gotten a bit off track with their detour by the lake, but she didn't mind, actually enjoyed the respite. She had been aiming to come back to this place for so long, she felt like she needed every second she could get before she actually faced it. Funny how you longed for a place to be and a story to reconnect with, only to get so shy before you got there.

They walked slowly by their standards, and he didn't comment. She felt her breathe catch in her throat as she finally saw her parents' summer house, and most importantly, the grave in the middle of the field in front of it.

This was it.

She didn't look at Daryl, she didn't look for walkers or dangers, she only walked forward, slowly still but decidedly, finally feeling like she was ready for whatever happened then and what would happen next.

She got to the grave, and though she had never seen it, she knew it was it, it was where her sister was buried. She wiped some of the plants which had grown on it with her hand, and sat in the dirt, before saying.

"Oh Lilah, my darling. How long I waited to be reunited with you."

This had been home once, but it was not anymore. Lilah though would always be home, and Carol allowed herself to lay down her burden, for a minute then much longer, as she sat by her sister's grave, lovingly caressing the tombstone, feeling like her sister's energy was still out there somewhere, and reaching for her.

"Lilah," she whispered again.

And she let the tears run freely as she finally reconnected with her sister.


	10. Chapter 10

This was it. He finally got to meet the sister.

He had no idea how it made him feel, too tired to analyze, yet hyper aware of the meaning of the scene happening before his eyes. He wondered if he should step back and give them some privacy, but he caught a look from Carol, and decided to stay where he was. A walker could come in and she would be defenseless, he told himself, as she was giving herself up to grief. They had not come all the way here for her to be killed now.

He stood close as Carol talked to her sister, words escaping her mouth so quickly he could barely keep up.

"I told you I would be back, but I hate that it was so late. I'm sorry I put you through all this. You were the one, you saw what Ed was doing to me, and you tried to warn me, but I was too lost, and under his thumb, my head was not running right. Lord knows he had tried to smack stupid one too many times already…"

The guilt she expressed, like it was her fault her sister was lying in the ground was unbearable, considering how close she had been to being a dead woman herself, on a daily basis. Lilah surely didn't want her sister to apologize for what had happened…

"Sophia, my baby girl, she looked so much like you, it was a relief," Carol said at one point. "I would look at her and not see traces of her father. I would see you and hope she would grow up to be as fearless and daring as you were, when I was the opposite, a mouse trying to live one day at a time. Looking at Sophia made me feel closer to you. How I wished you had met her. She would have loved you. You would have loved her."

She choked on a sob, and said:

"Lord knows I don't believe in Heaven anymore, but if there is one, then I can only hope you have been reunited, the two persons who kept me alive in so many occasions. I hope you can see her where you are, and tell her that I was not always the woman she had known, a shell of a woman terrified by a coward who only felt a thrill when beating his wife."

He thought back about thoughts he had entertained when he had met with her again about a place where abused children found peace and solace. Maybe Lilah belonged there too in a way. Maybe she had entered anyway because this was who she had been, according to Carol.

The two sisters talked for hours, and Carol's tears dried up, as she concentrated on saying what she needed to say, and waited for her sister to answer before speaking again. She could have looked like she was losing it, but Daryl understood what was going on more than he would have expected. This was not about making amends, this was about saying her piece, and finding strength if she could, knowing she had seen her sister, and she had talked to her.

"Ed is dead. I didn't get to kill him. But he's dead, and I'm not. I survived. I survived him, and monsters, and more. I survived losing my baby girl, and the only thought that kept me sane was the fact that you would look after her wherever you both are, that you would take care of her the way you had tried to protect me but I didn't let you. I thought I was protecting you. It was not about staying a prisoner with Ed, it was about trying to get you as far away as possible from him, so that he couldn't ruin your life like he was ruining mine. I wanted you safe, and you wanted me safe, and none of us got what they wanted."

There was this tightening in his chest, as each word she said reminded him of something he had seen, or suffered. He could relate but too well, to Carol's story, to Lilah's and to Sophia's.

"I love you, baby sister, I love you still. I wish you were here so I could tell you, but I need to trust that you'll know. I love you. I'm alive. I'm free. I so wished you never died and I could tell these words to you in the flesh. I feel like I owe you so much. You saved me from the tombs. I know you did. You saved me every time I was about to give up."

Daryl felt like Carol would have survived each and every time, on her own, as she was the toughest person he had encountered in his life, but he also understood what she meant. He remembered when he had lost Merle, and he had gotten bit by a poisonous snake and had been struck with delirium for a stint. His brother had appeared, taunting him to stay alive, daring him to make it through, as if he had known that being compassionate and all "my poor baby brother" would not have fueled Daryl with the correct energy to actually make it.

Minds were crazy places, and Daryl was a firm believer in the fact that your survival instinct would dupe you into surviving if you were cut from that particular clothe, and Carol had told him about her hallucinations involving her sister when she had been on the brink of giving up. Lilah was more than just her sister, she had become Carol's alter ego, the devil and angel on her shoulder who knew what to say to her survival instinct to get her free and out of danger.

Siblings, hum.

Carol spoke some more, about the life she had lead with her old group, and for the first time, he heard her talk in agony about the people she had had to leave behind when Lazarus had decided to stop planting crops and to become God almighty again. He had always imagined and inferred that Carol may not have seen it but there had to be bad blood and dark feelings to deal with when thinking about that episode in her journey, and she seemed to finally see that things were not as simple as she had shown them to be. He didn't mind, as she was just realizing how unfairly she had been treated, at least in his mind, and her sister felt like the only person she could tell Lazarus was a dick to. Daryl wondered what would happen if they ever crossed paths again. He hoped Carol would kick Lazarus' ass and get him back for all the crap he had inflicted on her when he had decided to be self-righteous. Had he not tried to give the person he now considered a friend, the samurai chick, as a token to the governor to appease his foe? This spoke volumes about the kind of guy Lazarus could be. Sure he had been in distress as he had just lost his wife and was sort of forced to be the man, The Man, in capitals. He should have known before he had banished Carol, that there was always more than one side to a story, and while the dead couldn't tell their side of the story, he should have taken comfort in the fact that Carol had been looking out for the community and its children, amongst which were his.

Finally, Carol got up, and wiped her pants. She came to stand close to Daryl, and he didn't know what had prompted him to do so, but he took her hand, and held onto it, as she was still shaking, processing the emotions from having been reunited with her sister.

They stood over Lilah's grave for some time, hand in hand.

10101

When night came, they started setting camp, not too far from the precious grave. They had been walker free ever since the bee encounter, and she didn't want to jinx them.

She went to look for some wood that would creak if walkers did come their way, and when she got back, as light was about to disappear, she noticed Daryl, on Lilah's grave, talking in a low voice.

She didn't want to interrupt, but she couldn't help but overhear, no matter how low he spoke for she had relied on her hearing for too long to keep herself safe, whether it was from Ed coming home drunk or from walkers coming to try and have a bite.

"If you see a burly guy, who's a very big dick, and will tell you he has one of those too, that's my brother Merle," she heard Daryl tell Lilah. "He's got a big mouth but if you've met him, then you know how he really is and how his big mouth runs so that he doesn't have to be real maybe. If you see him again, just tell him… Tell him Darylina is okay. That I'm not alone, and I'm not in danger. May even be in good company. That goes for your sister as well, won't let anything happen to her, not under my watch. But to Merle, tell him I understand. Don't know how much forgiving I can do, how much he is owed and how much I have in me, but I know better."

She felt warmth in her belly, from the fact that he was trusting Lilah with some of his secrets. If he couldn't talk to her, she was glad he could tell Lilah at the very least.

Merle had been his companion most of his life, and she could only picture how hard it had been to adjust to a life where Merle was not around anymore.

"If you see Ed, clearly you've gone the wrong direction, but do knee him in the balls on my behalf before you find your way back to wherever you and Sophia are. Your sister is free of that jerk, doesn't mean you should deprive yourself from taking a pound of flesh. Only fair, hum?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, and from the way he was standing, she could tell he had noticed she was back.

"Your sister is safe with me. Take care of my brother, if you have the courage to deal with that asshat."

He hesitated for a moment, then put a hand on the grave, and said:

"Thanks, Lilah."

She got on her side of the mat that they shared and he walked slowly back to his. It was his old mat, the one where they had slept when with the marauders. At some point, it had even begun to feel like their bed, if it made any sense. Her mat had been lost when she had been seized and claimed.

She didn't say anything, not wanting to make him feel self conscious about what she had heard, but she couldn't help feeling elated by some of the things he had said, about having her back. You didn't go to your companion's dead sister's grave just to tell them lies, right.

So she laid down, and wondered where they would go next. She heard Daryl scratch his throat, once, then a second time a short time later.

Though this was not the way they usually did things, she turned to face his back, and was reminded of the pain it exhibited.

"My pop," he started, "was an asshole. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree with Merle and I, I suppose, but we never got to be as bad as he had been…"

And he opened up. He told her in his words, his grunts, about the life that had been his before the world had been turned upside down. He told her about his alcoholic parents who had never been there except to be abusive to the two kids they never seemed to have wanted to have in the first place. He told her about being born when Merle was a teen, and how hard it had been to connect. He told her about the way he now saw that Merle had tried to protect him from their father, how he had joined the army, thinking that if he removed himself from their poisonous equation, their father would lose his favorite toy and not go look for another one. He had been wrong of course, and while Daryl hated the guy, and also hated Merle's naivety on that topic, he was able to see the sacrifice, now that he was older, the way his brother had hoped he was the only one eliciting those thoughts and those torturous urges.

"My back, I don't see it. I never see it. But people do. It's a dead giveaway to what I suffered, and I hate it. I hate what it stands for. I hate that I was a victim, that I never got to have the last word. Mother killed herself when she burnt down our house. Father killed himself in a car accident, drunk as a skunk. I was left living in his cabin because there was nothing else to do, waiting for Merle to come back, never wanting him to come back. Anger issues, you know?"

She sighed and knew there were no words she could say to fix what he was feeling. Instead, she thought about what he had missed, growing up. Gentle touches, gentle words. Proof of worth. She could relate to all of that. She let her instinct take the lead and very carefully, slid closer to him. She knew he could feel her coming closer, and she hoped he would trust her. He flinched but didn't move.

Very carefully, she came closer and put one hand on his shoulder, the other one on the small of his back. He was still tense, but he let her go on, and she decided to push her luck. She put her lips on his back, through the shirt, and very lightly, and lovingly, she kissed the top of his back, where she knew some of his biggest scars were. This was not the magic kissy she used to give Sophia when she had hurt herself as a child, though it was a bit similar. She just very reverently, and respectfully kissed his back. He flinched the first time but then relaxed, as she kept on kissing him on the scars he carried like a badge of dishonor. She decided to give them the respect they deserved, and hoped he would get it, that his scars were nothing to be ashamed of and she certainly didn't feel any less of him.

She felt him move, and he grabbed the hand which was on the small of his back, and held it so it would be around his waist. This was all the acceptance she needed, and still carefully, she put her cheek on his back, falling asleep against him. He rubbed her hand and fell asleep too.

When they got up the next morning, they went back to stand in front of Lilah's grave, both lost in thoughts.

Words were not needed. Not right this second.

They didn't touch, didn't hold hands, but they felt connected. Slowly, they started walking away from the grave, saying goodbye to her sister and maybe his brother one last time.

Carol hadn't wanted to go into the house where she had lived when younger, not feeling like she could take it if it had been trashed, which was almost a given. She could only take so much that day.

They walked for a while, and stopped at midday, when they tacitly decided to chose a direction where they would be going next, as a team – as partners.


	11. Chapter 11

**Trigger WArning for everything Terminus related, cannobalism, gore, violence, read at your own risks...**

As they dragged him, bound and gagged through the backdoor exit of the Terminus base, Daryl couldn't help but feel despair. He had survived so many things in his forty and some years of existence but this was taking the cake. Had he learnt nothing from the past? He would have shaken his head if he had enough leeway to do so, but it would have done him no good, just given his captors a sign that they had him subdued. He knew how much room he really had for pretending but he didn't want to give them that satisfaction. If he had to die, he would die proudly, and a free man. The bounds around his wrist couldn't keep his spirit in chains and all that...

He was full of shit, he thought, depleted, but this was all he had.

 _Perhaps 24 hours earlier_

They had not set a course, not yet, delaying the moment when they would have to talk and acknowledge what they had exchanged so far. The night before had really felt like a step, a big step, the kind of step he had never taken with anyone, opening up about his past and his ghosts. He didn't feel vulnerable, though he had expected to, nor did he feel like he had made himself weaker. For once in his life, he had told his story, to someone who had listened, and it had been freeing. He had expected it to be so many things, had dreaded it, but when it had come to actually saying those words, which he had been playing on a loop ever since she had started opening about her own story, it had been easy.

However, he had been reluctant in using his voice again, as if it would taint what he had said. The degree of intimacy he was experiencing, with this person he had gotten to know such a short time ago was blowing his mind. The end of days was bringing surprises both good and bad with every day that passed. He felt like he was a whole new man, maybe finally a man, who was with a woman he held dearer than anything else in the world, for she brought him peace, of all things. He would not overstep, would not dare make a move, but he finally felt like he had found his alter ego, who was not his twin but the compliment to who he was and wasn't.

The reasons why he was reluctant to break the silence were but too obvious to him: what if they had crossed a bridge that they shouldn't have? This was new territory, one that could be very scary though he knew he was in good company.

The need to set a course was on his mind though and he was sure it was on hers too. They were too close to paths they had taken before where they risked encountering some old enemies.

As if to prove him right, they heard heavy breathings behind them, and he cursed silently as their eyes met and they both reached for their weapons. The walkers they discovered were children, had had to have been girls, and they bore a striking resemblance. Daryl tried to get Carol's eyes, to let her know he was going in for the tallest one, but he didn't manage to get her attention and he realized that she was staring at the children the way you did when you recognized who they had been before.

His mind went to Sophia but it couldn't be her, she was dead and had been so for over a year at least. The taller of the two children could have been a young teen upon further examination. The smallest one, which must have been 10 when killed if not younger was a mini version of the taller one. Those were not your average walkers.

He had encountered some of those in his travels, some walkers who were so small it made no sense that they had turned and not been eaten alive. The smallest one was relatively wound free, apart from a gunshot to the chest if the trails of blood were indeed from that injury he could see. The taller walker was in a much worse shape, with bits of flesh torn away around the neck and its chest. There was a trace of a bite on one of its legs, and this walker had suffered a great deal more than the small one when turning.

The more he looked at them, slowly walking to them yet firmly making their way there, the clearer the story seemed to be there. The walkers had to be family, youngest had died, gunshot wound, however it had happened, and the tallest one had been its first casualty. All in the family, he thought feeling nauseous. He thought of Merle, he thought of Lilah. He thought of Carol and himself, and all those who had lost a sibling in this never ending apocalypse.

It only made his determination stronger, the two walkers needed to be dealt with but Carol was still frozen on the spot.

A random thought came to him. She wasn't freezing just because those were two girls she could relate to, he had a feeling he could barely explain that she had known in a previous life maybe those girl-walkers. Carol didn't freeze, she acted even in the face of the most baffling danger, he told himself remembering how she had fought in that barn when the walkers had come in.

He may have looked quickly at the sky before clenching his fist around his bow, and swiftly, he shot two arrows through the heads of the walkers. Carol let out a choke as he did so, but she stayed still. The walkers fell, and he went to them quietly but quickly, to get his bolts back.

Carol was still standing still, looking at the corpses of the little girls finally dead for good

"You knew them?" He asked, needing his suspicions to be confirmed.

"Mika, and Lizzie", she whispered, gesturing first to the smallest then to the tallest. "They used to be… They used to be in my care at the prison. Their father died when there was the flu, and… And I don't know."

He had flashes of stories she had told him. She used to teach the kids how to handle weapons unbeknownst to the other adults. This was a sad testament to the fact that her efforts had been in vain, but then again, the girls had been young. At their age… Well, at their age he didn't know if he could have made it, he only had to deal with his no-good parents, while waiting for Merle to come back home.

"Fuckin' world," he said.

He checked the perimeter, and the two seemed to have been alone. He wasn't sure what he was to do, until she said:

"We bury them. People we knew, we bury them."

He wanted to say that those would be many corpses to put in the ground, but he realized this was insensitive on his part. He hadn't bounded with anyone, so giving respect to those he had known had never been something he had thought about, but to her, it meant a great deal.

"There's no shovels," he found himself saying after looking around.

"There's a couple of houses this way," she said, gesturing to the rooftops they could see. "Maybe we can find one there."

"Or more of those…"

He hated to say this, but they had to face the fact that they perhaps didn't have that leisure.

'You should go hunting, we need food," she told him, her eyes still fixated on the bodies. 'I'll go quickly to the houses, and see if I can get something. If I can't, then we leave them there."

But she needed to try. She didn't say it, but he heard it loud and clear. This was who she was. Even though those people were not her people anymore, she had to try and give them the respect she thought they deserved.

He wanted to tell her that going separate ways was a stupid decision, but it wasn't, really the houses were close. They needed some food. If they gave themselves strict instructions, they could be parted for a short while and hopefully still get back together.

His main concern was the marauders being around. He hadn't seen them in a few days but they had been walking close to the tracks this morning, and this was where he knew the claimers were hanging around. He couldn't bear the thought of her getting captured. He had heard some of the comments by their former captors those few times they had had to hide from them after their escape, and to say the guys were sore sports would be the biggest understatement of the year. Maybe even the decade, or the century. Guys held a grudge, period, and he wasn't sure what they would do if they found them… Nah He knew exactly what they'd do and it wouldn't be pretty.

So even though it was the last thing he wanted, he nodded. He would go hunting as she went for the houses. He had this feeling in his gut, this weird protective feeling which despised the fact that he was "letting" her go on her own but he also knew better than to think he held any power over her mind once it was set. The way she had handled needing to pretend she was his victim was just another proof of how committed she could be when it came to staying alive.

"An hour" he told her. "Houses are 10 minutes away, you rummage for about an hour and then you come back straight to me, you got it?"

She nodded, didn't argue with the short time he was granting her. He knew he was cutting it a bit too short, but she looked too distressed, and on the other hand he knew better than to think she couldn't get everything done in that time.

He came to stand in front of her, and reached for her face, forcing to stop watching the two bodies on the ground.

"Stay safe, okay?" He said.

He saw many emotions reflect in her eyes, confusion, sadness but also resolution. She would get this done. Even if it was the last thing she did, she would get the girls buried. She nodded again, and he let his hand linger on her cheek, hoping that she would be able to read all those things he didn't know how to say.

Another nod, and then she ran silently toward the houses they had spotted.

This would be the longest hour of his life, he thought, as his eyes fell on the two dead girls once again. How the hell had they come to be this? How the hell had they managed to come back up to here, and still haunt the one woman who had been more of a mother to them than anyone else at the prison? He knew but too well how to read in between the lines of Carol speech, and he knew that she had bounded with the girls.

Some people were cursed, his drunk buddy from the bar would tell him, and he had never given it two thoughts, thinking that if people were indeed cursed then he had to be on that list and he didn't like the idea of not having any say in what happened next to him because of a supposed curse hanging over his head. He didn't want to believe Carol was cursed either. Or maybe she was cursed: she cared too much, and everything that came back to bite you in the ass when the world came down were more strikes on her psyche.

He wanted to be there for her, but didn't know what to say.

He heard steps and was struck with how careless he had been. Carol had been gone for a while now, maybe ten minutes, and he had been standing still, not hunting.

He jumped into a bush, and tried to get a look at what was coming his way. It was a group, five guys, young, and he noted surprisingly, well-fed. You didn't encounter people who were not suffering from malnutrition anymore, not in this day and age. Their health and the fact that they had for some of them some fat on their bones made them stand out more than if they had been giants.

"Ugh, these two are even deader than dead," one of them said, looking at the two corpses.

"Pity too, you know they taste better when they're young."

He thought his ears were playing tricks on him, that he had been too mellowed out by his confession time, the rupture in his routine of being a tough guy, and that his brain had just gone all mushy and unsharp. Taste? He thought.

"I have a question actually," one of the guys said, coming to crouch next to one of the girls.

"I can feel the Nobel Prize question coming," one of the guys said.

He had to be the leader, it was in the way he held himself. There were two very self-assured men around him, but they stayed a step behind him, as if they were ready to protect him but also as if they knew better than to believe they were his equal and could walk with him.

"Just hear me out, Gareth. We all know what meat we eat, and why. We also know that the younger the meat, the tenderer it is. On the other hand, we also know that all that is dead comes back to life. That we carry this thing in us, makes us one of them if we go through the process."

Horrified, Daryl stood still, as he looked at the guns they were carrying. He had no escape route. He needed them to walk right by him and not see him, or he would be dead.

"What's your fucking question?" the leader asked.

"Well, those were young, and could have been good. Why don't we eat them? We can't catch what they're having, they're twice dead now."

Eat. It was there again.

"Let me put it this way, we're all dead men walking, with this thing in us. But we're not dead. Would you go with a beautiful chick that had AIDS, knowing you're dying anyway? Or would you be pickier and not expose yourself to this new level of threat, just in case Mother is right and we are the chosen people?"

So casual when talking about eating people… Daryl shuddered.

"Yeah, it makes sense. Sorry. We need to find a new shipment, spam just doesn't taste the same once you've had the real deal," the guy said, getting back up and finally leaving the corpses alone.

Had he really been talking about possibly eating dead walkers? Who were they, vultures? And Biblical freaks too? What was all this nonsense about Chosen people and shit?

Daryl thought of Carol, and felt terror in his heart. The Marauders crew seemed so tame in comparison…

"Still, I'm going to take a token", the younger man said, taking a knife out and lifting Lizzie's arm, ready to cut it off.

Those girls were dead, twice so, yet Daryl couldn't help himself, thinking about the pain it would cause to Carol if she came back and found the people she wanted to pay her last respect to mutilated, and he shot the young guy in the head, not thinking twice.

And all hell broke loose.

Within seconds, the others were on him, talking about making roast, and making him dinner and more. They seized him and the more he struggled, the harder they kicked back of course. He could feel blood running down his face, and he was sure his ribs had to have bruised if not broken for some of them. They punched him, and as he struggled they took his vest and ripped his shirt from his back. They and were just about to give him the final blow, when Gareth yelled:

"Stop!"

He heard the herd, but they didn't, or not right away. Gareth was focused on the skin they had exposed, and once again, Daryl felt eyes on his back, his goddam fucking marred back.

"The prophet." Gareth said.

"You don't believe that shit, do you?" One of the guys, a dark-haired asshole asked.

"I don't, but Mother does. Let's bring him back, and let her see him. When she's decided he's not the one she's been waiting on, you'll get your pound of flesh," the guy named Gareth told the younger guy who had been asking those disgusting questions before.

They tied him up, and he was like a lifeless doll. They shoved his rag into his mouth and tried to force him to walk. Had it been only him, he would have stalled and stayed behind, willing to be eaten by the herd he could hear coming rather than let those assholes have him, but there was Carol. He heard them spit out orders in talkies, about rockets and more as he allowed the jerks to take him, and make him walk back to their fucking camp, he thought of Carol, and how he would have done anything to prevent her from coming back to those psychos. She survived, didn't she? Maybe he didn't. But if she did, he was okay with that.

Carol was on auto pilot, her eyes locked on the houses, thinking that they needed shovels, to give Lizzie and Mika the eternal rest they were due. She didn't believe in Heaven, but rest, eternal rest at least, she could get behind. She hoped they were sleeping. She hoped they had gotten free of themselves and the monsters inhabiting them along the way.

This world, she thought. This fucking world.

She had never been big on swearwords before the turn, and Ed had made sure she kept her mouth saintly, but part of the many ways she had gotten free of his hold had been by calling a cat a cat, or a motherfucker a motherfucker. Words had power, and when you had been forbidden to use them for so long, their power only grew.

Lizzie and Mika. Lizzie and fucking Mika. Fucking Lizzie. Fucking hell period.

Shovels, she told herself, they needed shovels. They couldn't dig them graves like animals.

She heard a whimper, and the sounds of feet on the ground. This was not good. One hour had been the deal with Daryl, she thought, and she had no idea how long had gone by.

She entered the first house she found, and watched, hidden, as a group of walkers almost brushed past her.

Daryl, she thought. Daryl.

She couldn't lose him too. She had already lost two persons today. She had lost two little girls who had wanted to call her mom, and had relied on her to keep them safe. How much more losses would she have to take? She didn't want to discover she had a breaking point, but if Daryl didn't make it, or worse, then she would knew for sure she was not unbreakable.

She held back a silent cry, forcing herself to keep quiet.

The pack went by, and very slowly and carefully, she went to the other end of the house, listening to every sound, ready to take out whoever came her way. She went into the garage, thinking that if there was a shovel around, it would be there and she would be able to run back to Daryl.

She expected walkers, because this was what the world was made of. What she didn't expect were ghosts of her life to come back to haunt her.

Tyreese. Tyreese was here, crouched on the ground, a weapon in his hand, though completely unsteady. Judith let out a gurgle, and Carol realized they were not ghosts. She wondered how many times your heart could break in a day, or even an hour. Tyreese looked about ready to lose it, but Judith… Judith was just a baby, vulnerable, harmless, and perfect.

Carol found herself on her knees, prying the baby from Tyreese's hands. He looked like he had seen a ghost except that ghost would have been the one ghost that sent him over the edge.

"Tyreese, what happened?" Carol asked in hushed tones as she felt the formidable warmth of Judith against her skin.

"The girls…" He said. "The girls."

Nothing ever happened at random, this was not who they were.

He had been with the girls. He knew they were not themselves anymore.

"I know," she said. "We had to take them out this morning."

And Tyreese started crying silently.

With the baby in her arms, alive and well, Carol watched the man who had been her friend break apart.

He told her a story, a horror story, where Lizzie had been wanting a walker friend for a while and had killed her sister to get it. He told her about coming back from a quick run to find Mika dead, and Lizzie waiting for her new pet to come back to life.

He told her about the moment when that thing that had taken Mika's place opened its dead eyes and attacked its former sister.

And he told her how he had run.

"I just couldn't… I couldn't. I needed to save Judith, and I did, but I couldn't," he kept saying, and she knew what he meant was put them down.

"I'm not the kind of person you are," he told her.

This struck a chord in her soul as she remembered the anguish she had felt putting down David and Karen.

"I know what you did, to Karen," Tyreese said, as if reading her thoughts. "Rick told me. It made no sense. It fucking made no sense. Even when the flu out down at the prison and we had so many casualties, it made no sense why you would do that. Then yesterday happened, and Mika was dead, and Lizzie was dead…"

"And it started making sense," she whispered, holding in her tears, not wanting to distress the baby, as they couldn't tell if they were surrounded by walkers or safe in this garage.

"You… You would have…"

"But you didn't."

She didn't blame him, couldn't blame him. As she caressed Judith's head, and gave it a light kiss here and there, she thought back to the scene of the morning, when the two walkers had emerged behind them, and she had frozen, thinking to herself "how many children will you have me take down?", not sure who the "you" in that sentence would have been. She remembered how lost she had felt, and how she had seen Sophia's face all over Lizzie's. Mika had been but a baby in so many ways when she had left. How many children did she have to put down before her price was paid, and what was she being ransomed for?

But then Daryl had stepped in, and with only a look, had taken her fate in his own hands, as if shouting "no more" to whoever was putting her on trial. He had been weirdly gentle in the way he had taken down the two girls she had known, he hadn't bashed their heads in or anything. It had been nothing short of respectful, and he had never known them. He had only known her. He had decided to act, and take this burden off her hands, knowing it would not be the worst thing he ever had to do but it would have come a close second or so to some of the things she had to live with.

She hadn't thanked him, she realized suddenly. She needed to thank him. He was a good man, a much better man than he gave himself credit for, and she needed to make him see that.

In the end, he sort of was everything nowadays.

Her companion, her shoulder to cry on. Her friend. Her only friend, and the best. Her… man.

They heard a bang and Judith started crying, forcing her to come back to what was real. It was more than just a simple wake up call for this little interlude of catching up, she realized, and she found herself on her legs, handing the baby to Tyreese.

Daryl, she thought. She needed to get back to Daryl.

 **Three chapters and it will be a wrap. I will be sad to see this story end!**


	12. Chapter 12

His head was pounding, and his eyes felt like they couldn't adjust to the change of lights. One moment he was engulfed in darkness, the next he was in the sun, then he was in a dimmed place, some sort of church, with candles, and a crazy woman… It was a complete attack on his senses, and the dread he felt in his bones was not relenting.

Those people were fucking cannibals, fucking animals, who believed some shit about having been chosen to survive the end of the world. They thought they were meant for greatness, that they had a destiny that went beyond being food for walkers, except they took it several steps past the sane/insane frontier and dove deep into batshit crazy territory.

Of all the things he had seen… But wonders never ceased, even the most horrific kind of wonder. Whenever you thought you had seen it all, you were condemning yourself to a new kind of crazy. You kept on jinxing yourself by daring say out loud that you had seen it all, that things couldn't get worse. Karma, as the bitch it was known to be would always find a new way to make regret uttering those words. Maybe it was not Karma though, maybe it was just life but it was back to the bitch acting part. It was so humane, so profoundly humane the way you always thought you had reached the pit of humanity. It was stupid too, considering people you knew, liked and sometimes even loved died every day, all the time.

They were dragging him through the camp, and he was stuck by the silence around them. When they had seen the signs, before, he had never knew what to think of Terminus, if he could trust it or not, but as they walked in broad daylight in a large compound where no one was making a noise, it was just another testament to how unhealthy and sick the place was. When people got together, there was noise. Back at the quarry…

He didn't get to finish this thought and almost felt grateful it was so, as Carol was on his mind, and he didn't want to jinx her too and get her there, by some kind of extreme level of misfortune.

Gareth had left him with some of his henchmen, and they opened the door to a wagon, threatening to send in a biter or whatever they called the dead if he made noise.

He fell face first to the ground, and heard the door being locked behind him.

Not going down without a fight, he thought, not going down without a fight. I'm a survivor, he told himself, and repeating words that had been bestowed upon him when he hadn't know he was longing to hear them. Even if I die, I will not let them kill me.

He felt as delirious as they were crazy, but he could live with that, or die with that. He was no beast, he was no prey. He was no meal.

He managed to rise up, and realized that they had untied his hands finally, as if they believed him to be too beaten down to still fight them. He would show them.

Hard to believe only some hours ago he had been on Lilah's grave.

He tried to be methodic, and to consider what his next move would be. He knew they wanted to move him, something about a train, a cargo or whatever. This would be an opportunity to take one of them down, he thought. So he waited.

He felt an ache in his throat, among other things, and realized that the air he was breathing was being messed up with. He saw a pipe he couldn't reach and the air it let into the room was clearly poisoned.

For Fuck's sake he thought. He fought against it the best he could, tried to hide his airways with his shirt, staying as close to the ground as possible, but it was a battle he couldn't win. What a sad pathetic death, he thought. He deserved so much better than that, a warrior's death. Something where he got to stand his ground, he thought as he felt himself lose consciousness.

And then, suddenly, the door of the wagon opened and people surged in, grabbing him and carrying him as if he was nothing, which he supposed he was. He wondered if that was the end, hoped he could close his eyes, and only think of Carol, one last time.

They opened a door and tossed him somewhere, he couldn't tell. He felt like he was inhaling clean air again but he supposed that as you lay dying you could be deceived by a thousand things.

As he lay dying, he thought. Dying. Carol.

There were voices, faint voices around him, and he wouldn't fight them, though his instinct told him that he should want to get free, that this could be his last chance.

The air in his lungs was too polluted, he didn't think he would make it out. Whatever they had used to subdue him, as they planned to transfer him somewhere else had done its job. Maybe this was when he died.

"Daryl?" He heard faintly. "What the fuck, stay awake! That's my baby brother, assholes!"

Merle? He thought as he struggled to open an eye, only to see a face that had to belong to a ghost. He heard an explosion. He fainted.

She wasted no time once they heard the first bang then one that followed, somewhere else. This was a concerted move, a plan being put in action, and she didn't trust whoever it was who got the final say in what was happening.

Making sure Judith was safe in Tyreese's arms, they made their way outside, avoiding groups of walkers who were too focused on the sounds to stop and attack them. It was eerie. She had never seen walkers so distracted by something that was not blood.

They walked, and walked, and got back to where she had left Daryl. She hadn't looked at the sun to keep track of but she knew she was late on the lapse of time he had given her to run to the houses. Funny how you could tell how long an hour was when you had been deprived of any watch for some time. The sun, the heat, everything were as many tells of that elusive notion of hour and time. Still, she wondered why he hadn't come to meet her, all the while hoping he had found somewhere safe to wait for her and be safe from the herd of walkers.

Whoever was causing this ruckus had to have one hell of a plan.

Judith was a little princess of course, never whimpered, never let out a noise that could put them in danger.

Yet, there was a tension, even more than usual. She hoped for a second that the baby would get a chance to experience a life when you didn't have to look over your shoulder every second of every minute, wondering if this was when you died.

She led Tyreese back to where she had left Daryl, and the big man started crying when he spotted the two corpses of the girls who had been with him a short time before. Carol shushed him, though she felt his pain, as she took in their surroundings. So many things looked wrong, and she was no hunter. There were traces in the mud, footprints, and it looked like they didn't belong all to the same person. Daryl had taught her how to really hide her own traces, though she had always been pretty good at it when on her own, and she could tell that the people who had left those behind had not cared about the paths they were showing.

She saw broken twigs, even broken branches, and she saw a space where something had had to have happened, as it looked like someone had laid there, in fetal position probably, trying to escape … blows? She wondered how much of what she was seeing she was analyzing right, hoping her post Ed disorder was not tainting what she was seeing. Daryl was not here, and everything she knew to be true and good seemed to have left with him.

Daryl never would have left. Hell, upon seeing she was not back in time, he would have found his way back to her. She trusted in this truth more than in anything else.

If he wasn't here, then something had happened, and she begged whatever deity there was left that the lack of a body meant he was not dead.

They heard another bang, and more walkers trotting by, as if summoned somewhere.

She didn't want to leave Mika and Lizzie there, but they had no choice. She helped Tyreese off the floor and they started travelling toward the sound. There was a pattern, she was certain of it. Every few minutes or so, the sound would pop up from place to place, following a trail, and just like the walkers, they found themselves listening, in hope of divining and anticipating the next move.

That was how they managed to get to a small house, where a car was parked, and a guy was setting up fireworks. He was totally oblivious to their presence, speaking into a talkie and making jokes.

"So the prophet was no prophet after all?" He said and someone said something on the other end. "Color me shocked. Poor Mary must be desperate. He had the scars and everything…"

More talk Carol couldn't decipher.

"I saw them, was with Gareth when he got caught. Then this shitstorm happened. Don't let it be said that two days look alike in Terminus…"

He chuckled.

"Come on, after the guy and the kid in a hat, and that chick with a sword? She was a weapon with a weapon!" He said, as if terribly proud of his humor.

Carol's blood was pumping in her temple, as her worlds collided. Daryl was gone, and the guy mentioned a prophet who was not a prophet with scars on his back? A chick with a sword had been seen somewhere near, maybe even captured with a kid with a hat, and she was supposed to believe this was a coincidence?

There was no such things as coincidences anymore, only rotten luck having its go at you.

"At least we're not gonna starve…" The guy said, and that was when Carol snapped, unable to deal with all the images in her head.

She pointed her gun to his temple and made sure he heard the trigger.

He said things, but she barely listened, too focused on what mattered. Rick's family was in danger. Daryl had been taken to Terminus. Some prophecy-shit had been alluded too but she would wait to hear what that was about.

Tyreese looked at her, like he had never seen her before or maybe like he was finally seeing her for the first time. They didn't speak, didn't need to.

She would get her man back, and if in the process she got some of Ty's family too, then she would call it a good day. She survived. She only hoped Daryl would get to survive too.

He came to violently, after someone had slapped his face.

He coughed, his head on the side, expelling the dirty air that had been slowly killing him. He felt hands on his face, calloused, and strong, but familiar.

"Merle?" He asked again.

The guy let out a deep breathe, and Daryl realized he had his head on his big brother's lap. There were people around, but he didn't care about them, only cared about the guy who couldn't be there, yet was.

"The herd… Lost you…"

"Like a couple of walkers could really end me," Merle said jokingly, but there was something in his voice, and Daryl knew better.

They would never have a bittersweet reunion where words were exchanged and people were assured of their value in the eyes of the other, this was not who they were. They were the Dixon brothers. They fought like cats and dogs, until another jackal came around and it was all about fighting together and getting rid of him.

It was not much, but knowing he could rely on Merle when in danger had always been something Daryl valued. Merle was not a sentimental guy, and Lord knew he was not a family guy either. If he came back for Daryl, then it had to mean he saw something in him at least, something he could make do with.

"Poison…" He whispered.

"Yeah. According to Abe here, you're not the first victim. They taze you and more to make sure you won't jump them when you open the door."

Merle was there. Merle was fucking there. But where was Carol? Was this another trick fate was playing on him? He finally made peace with the fact that he had lost his brother, only to gain him back and lose the one person who had given him more in a few days of companionship than he would probably ever get from any other relationship?

And even if it was, was he supposed to take a stand, agree to that bargain and lose Carol, or refuse it and lose Merle?

Cruelty, like wonder, never ceased.

And fate was the ficklest bitch of them all.

He managed to prop himself up, taking a few deep breathes. His vision was blurry but he needed to get back in shape. He wondered if his brother knew what kind of people had captured them, as they were obviously all prisoners, unless the people from Terminus were known for their accommodations in wagons. He needed to tell him. They needed to come up with a plan. He needed to get back to where Carol would be waiting, if she was waiting. He hoped she didn't come after him, she deserved so much more than this. His brother did too, but he was caught already, Daryl found himself thinking. It didn't matter how much he hated it or what was about to happen to them, it was about saving those who could still be saved.

Merle helped him to his feet, and there was a softness in his brother Daryl didn't recognize. He looked less tortured, more at ease in his own skin, though he sweated danger as much as the next guy.

"Guys, tis' my baby brother, Daryl Dixon."

This was so incongruous, and out of place.

"This ain't some tea party," Daryl spat out. "If you make me bow I'll knee you in the balls."

Merle had a laugh, a burst of joy as he patted his brother on the back violently enough to make him tumble.

"This is the Darylina who I've been telling you about! Such a little shit, always thought he was bigger and stronger than he really was, always got himself in trouble… Baby brother, such a charmer. Thank God I'm part of this family, or the Dixons would have a bad name."

There may have been a couple of chuckles, but the atmosphere was stressed, and Daryl wondered just how much people knew about this place they were in.

"Watcha doing here?" Merle asked as Daryl steadied himself.

"You know me, saw a light, came in, decided to skip dinner," the younger brother said annoyed.

Merle laughed some more.

His ability to make such a noise and mean it was a wonder to Daryl, who couldn't shake the dread in his bones. He was certain he would be happy to know his brother was still alive, once they got out of this shitstorm, but that second then, he could only focus on what was to happen to them.

"I'll show you around, some you know," Merle said as he spun him around.

"There's Michonne, don't call her sugartits, she'll cut your balls off."

Daryl felt almost awestruck. Part of him on a rational level knew that this was Merle, the epitome of Merle, acting twelve different weird ways before he finally came up with the right attitude, but the circumstances were so dire… And Carol was not here.

"Do you remember the quarry, with the guys and gals?"

Daryl's head spun to watch his brother, as something finally made sense in this whole mess, in the most unexpected fashion.

"This is Carl, you should remember him and this is…"

One look at the kid had told Daryl all he needed to know. He remembered those eyes, though the kid had lost most of his baby fat and had hardened a lot for someone who was just a brat. He was standing next to a guy, whose features were similar to his.

"Lazarus…" Daryl whispered.

And with strength he should have saved for the possible great escape he hoped they'd get to have, Daryl threw himself at the guy's face, punching him in the face, the eye more especially. The guy ended up on the floor, and Merle tried to restrain his brother though it was no use.

This was the last of his strength, but it was a great use of that strength. Fucking Lazarus in the flesh.

The woman Merle had introduced as Michonne made her way to the guy, asking Rick how he was, and the others were in shock.

Of all the things happening that day, it seemed Daryl sucker punching the almighty Rick Lazarus Grimes was the most surprising turn of events. He would have laughed.

But as they took care of their leader, and threw him looks, Daryl felt something new in his bones.

Fate was a bitch, sure, but only to him. There was no way in hell fate would have put that guy near Carol's path if she was dead already. Guys like him didn't get to have the last word, even if they were to say it before being slaughtered like pigs.

It was stupid and silly and just fucking dumb, but Daryl pinpointed that feeling in his bones, and found the right label for it: hope. He closed his eyes, and let instinct take over, for a moment. Carol was alive, he was sure of it. They had grown so attuned to one another, he was sure he would have dropped dead if something had happened to her. Carol came back for the people she cared about. She had cared for this group, very much so, though Merle had to have joined after she had departed. Hell, Carol cared for him, Daryl Dixon, baby brother to Merle Dixon and son to two fuckers who had not done right by them.

There was a bang in the distance, and he realized it was not the first he had heard, though he only became aware of the repetition that time.

She would come.

And he would make sure they were ready to help her when she did. No way he was dying here, after being prodded and beaten and more. Besides, he owed his gal a kiss. Or two. Or three.

Daryl Dixon would not be dying today, he thought to himself as if he was broadcasting the news, and he smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

And then…

They were free.

Of course, things didn't happen as easily as they sounded, but there they were, Daryl thought, running through the woods, escaping the Terminus compound which was burning to the ground. They had killed their fair share on their way out, but he hoped more were dying, for the sins they had committed daringly against mankind.

He had fought side by side with his brother, and he had known it before but it still had made him feel warm and special that this was a dance they still knew how to do. They were good at keeping each other alive like it was their only business. The only other person who did the same for him as he did in return was Carol of course and Daryl found himself praying to a God he didn't believe in, especially after the massacres of the day, that she was alright, hiding somewhere, waiting for him to come back.

Everything in his body screamed that this would not be what she would have done, that this was not her and that in thinking she could do this he was pretending to not know her as well as he did, but the thought of her being around those Terminus people made him want to weep. Not cry, not fight, not go back in to save her, but simply weep. She had seen so much of what the world was capable of, and he knew she probably had more balls than all the men on this crew altogether, but he wanted her safe and shielded away from just this one atrocity, as if it would make all the difference in the world.

He remembered the fear he had felt, as his head had been about to be smashed with a bat, how she had been on his mind, the first time ever he had had a safe place where he could hide and pretend the fear was just a nagging feeling that wasn't controlling his body. She was everything.

Lazarus – Rick – fell to his knees somewhere in the woods, digging out weapons and talking about going back and finishing the rest of the Terminus psychos. Michonne argued that they needed to get gone, and be safe, live another day, when Daryl felt something, like a burn on the back of his neck.

He whipped around, beaten and battered, and was met by the most wonderful sight ever: Carol, safe, and carrying his crossbow.

His mind jumped to conclusions but his heart leaped even faster, and he ran to her, burying his nose in her neck, lifting her off the ground, as she looked teary and shaken, and just fucking safe.

"I knew you would come," he said for her ears only, placing a kiss on her neck. "I just knew it."

Until that very moment, he wouldn't have been able to say with certainty those things but with her in his arms, he knew he meant them and had never doubted her. He had known she would come back for him, and it made him feel like he had won the lottery. People talked a lot of shit about the feeling of being chosen, of being selected or whatever. It was shit. What he felt and would swear was the only thing mattering in the world, was that he had been wanted safe, and sound. He had been cared about enough to be searched for, and saved. He had done nothing to deserve it, yet…

He had been, saved, and not just today.

As he looked into her eyes, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, feeling her shake in his embrace, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.

They had a past, of abuse and forced contact, but in this instance, he felt it was all wiped away, a clean slate. Slowly yet determinedly, like in all things, he ravished her mouth, leaving her and himself panting for more.

She was not idle, no sir, and the feeling of her fingers in his hair, which had to be disgusting still made him feel like the hulk on ecstasy. He was tripping, and she was his drug of choice, his green fairy, his … Maybe just his.

She was clinging to his neck and shoulders, pressing herself so close to him, and he heard the unspoken words:

"I love you. I came back for you. I'm not leaving you. You're a good man, Daryl Dixon. You're my man, Daryl Dixon."

When they broke apart, craving the next kiss already, he said in a low voice:

"And you're my woman, Carol Miller ex Peletier."

"Do you guys need a room?" Merle said behind them, and Daryl pressed his forehead against Carol's, knowing this was the end of that moment. "Because, spoiler alert, there's none. If you need a room, you need to find a house, clean it, burn the bodies of the kills you'll have made, and maybe then you can start fucking, but I'd imagine step three would be a turn off. Or not, if you're into that kinda things. Lord knows I'm not into anything right now," Merle said in a lower voice, as if talking to himself, "after the things we saw today."

"Carol?" Rick said.

Daryl felt her stiffen in his arms, and he moved to the side, though keeping very much by her side, holding her hand. All that poison from before was long gone from his lungs, if he went for the guy who had been dead except not, he would not simply knock him in the eye. He would end him. She just had to say the word. She looked at the leader of her people, and he was delighted to see the hint of a smile playing on her lips as she noticed the bruise and the black eye he had managed to leave on him when he had jumped him. He may have been weak, but his heart had been in for the fight, and for the vengeance Carol had never had. He squeezed her hand, as if to claim that was his doing and she squeezed back.

She looked past Rick, at the people with them, and whispered to Daryl:

"Is that…"

"My pain in the ass brother? Damn right."

"Come on, Daryl, Don't sell me short to your lady, have some… Wait a minute…" Merle said as he took a closer look at the woman in his brother's arms.

Carol stepped forward, to face both him and Rick, and Daryl was so proud of her.

"Hello Merle," she said, with all the control she had, which was a lot.

After a second, she spoke again:

"Hello Rick."

"That was you?" He asked, pointing at the burning buildings behind them, and Daryl wanted to clog him again.

Just because.

"We owe you our lives…"

And Lazarus went in for a hug. Daryl saw Carol hesitate for a second or even less before letting him hug her, and reciprocating, though the hunter could see a reservation in her gesture.

She took a step back, and said she needed to show them something, and they started walking, to a cabin, where walkers who had met their final demise were laying on the floor. It was gore, but a big Afro-American man was waiting there, and Daryl figured it must have been his doing. He noticed that the rest of the group were more focused on the man and the package in his arms than on the display of violence.

When she reunited Lazarus with baby Judith, Daryl was amazed. Sure, it had been a lucky thing, being reunited with the giant who was acting as the baby's nanny while he had been away, but things worked out, sometimes.

He amended that in his head to "more than sometimes", thinking back to the way he had seen a woman in distress in the hands of the guys he was travelling with, and he had ended up claiming her, endangering them, and yet, saving them.

He found that he was always touching or brushing against her, her arm, her hand, her hip. It was if he needed to remind himself constantly that she was there. She smiled shyly and coyly at him several times, and every time he felt like he felt like he'd died and gone to heaven or he felt a warmth spread through his body all the way to his heart.

He had been close to dying before, perhaps even closer, but it was the first time he had had someone he needed to survive for. When he had been with Merle, he had known or hoped that his brother would be crushed if he were to die, but that he would go on, as evidenced by the fact that he now seemed to be acting as Lazarus's second in command. However, today, there had been something more, an incentive maybe, though the term didn't show the reality of it. He had needed to stay alive for himself, to give himself a chance to see Carol again and tell her all those things he didn't know how to say. He had needed to come back for her, because even if she hadn't felt the same, he knew she would have needed to hear those words, from someone who had no reason to lie to her or to try to deceive her. And of course, he had needed to come back, for her, because no matter how strong she was, he knew, he just knew his death would have been too much.

She searched for his eyes, and then she exchanged a look with Tyreese before saying:

"Now, we bury our dead."

He had expected nothing else from her, he thought as the others looked at them bewildered. Those two little girls needed a decent resting place, and Carol would provide, even if she had to be the one digging the grave with her own hands. After the carnage they had seen that day, it felt even more important to Daryl to do just that and perhaps give peace to two little girls whose numbers had been up. He went into the cabin and looked for a shovel.

They had gone back to the site where they had encountered, and brought an end to their misery to Lizzie and Mika. It was her, Daryl, Merle, Rick, Glenn, Maggie and Tyreese.

The whole bunch had almost come, but Sasha, Bob and the new ones, from the army, had stayed behind, with Carl and Judith, trying to see if they went back to the house where Carol had found Tyreese that morning to see if it could be made safe for all of them tonight. Sleeping at the cabin surrounded by Nicolas's body and more was not something they wanted to do. That other house though, it would be a certain distance away from Terminus, perhaps deceivingly so: the people from the compound who would have made it out alive would have crashed closer to the camp, and those who would be seeking revenge would have imagined that the bunch who had escaped would have gone further away, trying to escape them. Sometimes hiding in plain sight was the best plan, and Carol had wasted no time in explaining this to Rick and his band as well as Abraham and his own bunch of people.

It was a temporary thing, they would have to decide the next day where they wanted to go. Carol had only postponed the moment when she would need to ask herself what she did next.

Rick had talked, about her allowing them to be with her, and while it had seemed very humble, and sweet, she was in two minds about it, like she was about many things.

She had insisted on Lizzie's and Mika's graves, and the men had come in numbers, just in case they encountered termites.

As she watched them dig the graves, she thought that it looked very much like a punishment most of them were inflicting on themselves and she would not judge whether it was deserved or not. For Tyreese, it was a personal failure, and she hoped to be able to speak with him about it, but truth be told she just didn't know if she would have that time.

For Merle, Glenn and Rick, it looked like a punishment, like they were castigating themselves for not having been able to save those girls. They had been part of their people, their community at the prison, and there was something really personal going for each and every one of them, even though some had barely known the girls. For Maggie, it looked like something else altogether.

Carol had seen that Beth was not part of the people whom she supposed she had rescued from Terminus, and from the way the woman carried herself, Carol tended to believe the Greene sister had been missing for longer than just now. Maggie had a bible, and was looking for the part she wanted to read for the service.

Carol looked at the holes she had helped dig, unwilling to let the men do all the work. She had some atonement to do to, thinking about the promise she had made to the girls' father.

Carefully, and gently, Daryl and Tyreese each carried a body and laid them to rest at the bottom of the graves.

It never stopped, Carol thought, as Daryl came to stand next to her, and she was reminded of a moment which had been so much more appeasing to her soul.

Maggie chose her words carefully, making a quick speech, but an effective one, and in the ways she said certain things or emphasized others, Carol could almost hear Hershel again. Another soul they had lost.

Though who were "they"? Was there a "they" anymore?

They all took turns to say a quick word for those who hadn't know the girls, to a longer one for those who needed to say goodbye, and then all tossed a handful of dirt on the corpses they had covered with some seedy and holey sheets. When they were done, the men started shoveling the dirt back in the graves.

She stood on the side, and it felt like this was the place where she was doomed to be.

Rick had mentioned having them, her and Daryl, joining the group, or re-joining in her case, and she wondered how realistic it was. People still saw her as the woman who had murdered David and Karen. She didn't want to be around people who believed she was a lose canon, but would keep her around as their lose canon, the one that would protect them if need be.

Protecting her group had been all she had ever wanted. When she had seen Maggie, Michonne, Judith… Each and all of them really, seeing them alive, on their own two legs, it had made her so happy it had surprised her. She would never wish them ill, but they were not her people anymore.

She looked at Rick who was working with the same intensity he did everything. He may have traveled half the road to meet her, but she didn't know if she wanted to do the rest of the road, or even if she could. She understood him more than he would probably know. She had been grateful back at the farm then at the prison when he had taken charge, because she hadn't wanted to lead. She had hated the way he had treated Lori, though a part of her saw his reasoning, blaming the woman for Shane going ballistic. It was a shame Carl had had to end him. However, when examined under a larger spectrum, things were not so simple as to be pinned on the pregnant lady.

Rick had been a reluctant leader, but a leader nonetheless. When they had needed him to step up, he had. He never had the time, or the opportunity though to deal with everything he had had to do and the losses that had happened. It didn't make up for the shit he had put her through, banishing her, which meant leaving her out to die, but Carol couldn't say she didn't understand him. She didn't agree with many things, but she saw his pain, and the fact that it went on being unaddressed. She had seen the happiness on his face when he had seen his daughter, and it had warmed her heart, because she knew a part of him would always wonder if Judith was his, but when he had found her again, he had accepted in his heart that genetics or not, she would always be his daughter, because she had been his wife's daughter and she was his son's sister. Rick was no mean man, but that didn't mean he was a good one either. He could change though, but she didn't think she could be the one to induce that change, nor did she know if she wanted to be. Michonne seemed like a better choice. She had as complicated a history with Rick as Carol did, and she still believed in him. Merle perhaps would be a good choice too…

She was interrupted in her thoughts when she felt Daryl's presence next to her.

She wanted to put her head on his shoulder, and shut her eyes. She didn't know if she wanted to sleep or just pretend, all she knew was that she wanted five minutes when she didn't analyze everything, when she didn't need to make a decision right away. She wanted five minutes, for her, and for him.

This whole thing, being reunited with his brother, and meeting up again with her old group, it had the power to change everything. She wouldn't begrudge Daryl if he chose to stay with his brother. However, she didn't know how she fitted in that group anymore, this way, or anyway.

Daryl didn't reach for her hand, but she could feel him here. When she had found the sanctuary, the place with the candles and the dead and she had seized the actual insanity of the people doing what they were doing, she had thought of him, alone there, and it had been even worse than when she had found his crossbow. He could fight people, but that was if they gave him a fighting chance at all, and she had been sure they wouldn't. That shit about who was the cattle and the butcher… She had been so scared. For him. Never for her. Or maybe for once, a little for her. What if they took away her man, and she survived, as she always did, would she have been able to go on?

"I'm here", he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

She smiled at him, as it was all she had strength for. He gave her a tiny smile back.

They had so many things to figure, but in that second, she got her wish, her five minutes when she didn't have to think about it. She allowed herself to feel comforted by his eyes on hers, and even replayed their kiss in her mind. She wondered if there would be a second. What about a third?

Sure, there were a thousand questions in need of an answer, but for those five minutes, they didn't matter. It was him, and her and she knew he felt the same.

Telepathy, she thought. Or close enough.

When the men were done shoveling, Carol went to kneel on each grave a last time. When she got up, they headed back to the house Ty had hidden in that morning.

She dreaded the talks and decisions she would have to make, but with Daryl's hand in hers, at least she was not alone.


	14. Chapter 14

They all settled in the house where she had found Tyreese, and they lit up a small fire, reluctant to go to sleep. They all stayed up, sharing stories of where they had been, and how they had looked for each other, and Daryl wanted to bite them.

They had not looked for Carol, and she was too nice a person to ever say it, but he could tell that whenever one told about his quest for the others, she died a bit inside. He put his arm around her, slightly away from the rest of the group, and she came closer to him. He had a feeling she would have climbed on his lap if she hadn't been afraid to admit she was vulnerable in doing so. He didn't care about her being vulnerable, he only hated the fact that some people managed to make her feel so when she had saved them all just a short while ago.

As he felt her shrink against him, if that was possible, upon listening to everybody's tale, he told her in a low voice:

"I never wanted you near Terminus, but I also know it's the only reason I've made it out alive. Thank you."

She smiled, and he wanted to hit his chest like Tarzan in pride. She got closer to him, and even though it was not that cold, they were huddled up together as close as they could be without getting naked.

"I was not going to leave you with them. With Tyreese, we encountered one of them, and he talked about you, about some prophet shit, talking about scars, and I knew it had to be you. He also mentioned Michonne and Carl, but I was already sold on the idea that I needed to get you out of there. Though, I have to ask, Are you the prophet?"

Her slight jibe made him feel better, like she was finding herself again.

He thought back about the prophet shit, and he would have eluded the question had it been anyone else's interrogation.

"You know what they did, I know you do. There was the leader, Gareth, and his mom was around too. She was the queen of crazy. They had this thing, this saying, be the cattle or the butcher…." He felt her shiver against him. "They took me to this old woman, scary chick, and she talked some shit about me being the prophet they were waiting for. Creepy as fuck. She took a look at my scars."

He didn't need to say he had tried to fight her off but she had been with three guys who had held his face against the ground as she probed his scars.

"She kept on rambling, 'is he your Prophet, Lord, the one that will be the Herald of your return? Is he the one who will grant us absolution for what we did even though we only followed your orders?' It was complete bullshit. At some point, she asked me a riddle, which, if you ask me had to be straight out of a Harry fucking Potter book, and I failed, duh. So she decided I was just a scarred bastard and she had me thrown back in jail."

"It sort of makes sense, emphasis on the sort of part," she said, hugging him tighter, raising her head to kiss his shoulder where she knew he sported another scar. "When I was in the compound, they had a room, it was religious in a creepy way. I think I encountered the crazy chick you mentioned. She talked about cattle and butchers, and people raping them and more. I want to say she was batshit crazy, but I think it was more of a pushed too far thing. They were all too far gone. Maybe their quest for a prophet, who could have been you, was their way of coping with what they were doing. It still makes me want to puke.

"They were psychos."

"I agree."

He could tell she was still thinking about it, and it was always there when she closed her eyes.

"'Sup lovebirds?" Merle said, coming into their private bubble.

"You guys do know that Carol saved my ass and yours, right?" Daryl spat out, unable to stop himself. "Because you're all Kumbaya, we found each other again, but if Carol had not been there, you would be all Kumbaya in someone's stomach."

Carol flushed slightly and he could tell she was torn between the want to tell him to tone it down, yet at the same time he knew she was also grateful. The lovefest they had going on around the fire camp, it was her doing. Some of it was their own doing too, but she had given them the chance to break out.

Merle sighed as he looked at his group.

"Don't… Don't take it at face value. If there's one thing I've learnt with those guys, you rejoice about easy things, and you mule over the bigger things. Doesn't mean they're not grateful, just mean they know that they let Rick kick her out, and they're not sure how to act."

"You know about her exile?"

"Yeah. And truth be told, from me to you," Merle said to Carol, "I'd have done the same with no hindsight. It's easy to blame you when the flu broke out anyway, but yeah, to protect Judith and Carl, I'd have done the same."

"How did you end up with them?" Daryl asked, as Carol let Merle's words sink in.

"Remember the Governor?"

"Prick who talked a big game, and tried to get us to join? Sadly, yes."

"When I lost you, I wandered," Merle said, embarrassed as he mentioned having lost his brother.

They had lost each other, Daryl thought, there was no point in feeling embarrassment but then again, who they were and what made sense were wildly different things.

"I found the Governor. He was pretending not to be the Governor. He had a new gang, away from Woodbury, and I stayed with them for one night. He had shacked up with Tara's sister," Merle said, gesturing vaguely to the girl around the fire. "and he was in full batshit crazy stupid mode. I didn't see it, when it was you and me, but the guy had some issues. He talked about the people he wanted to destroy, and I figured I would go to them, and tell them the Governor was plotting, hoping to be able to stay with them. It took them some time to trust me, but some knew me from the quarry. In the end, Rick decided I was worthy of being one of them."

Daryl felt Carol press her face against his shoulder and he knew, just knew that she needed to hide. They had kicked her out, and taken Merle in, just like that. He was grateful that his brother had not been alone, but he was aware of the double standards. It was not about who was a better person, it was about how easy it had been to condemn Carol, and how easy it seemed it had been to take in Merle.

"I know you don't trust Rick," Merle told his brother. "He's an acquired taste."

"First time I ever thought of him that way," Carol said.

"Yeah, I guess it is strange. You knew him before, and I got to know him after Woodbury fell, and things like that. We've known two different persons. I get along with the one I know. I don't know where you're at with the guy. But you guys, you belong with us. I want you to stay. I may not be Ricktator, but he knows I will say my piece. I want you guys with us. Come on, baby bro…"

"Don't look at me, Merle," Daryl said with a surprising ease. "I appreciate the sentiment," he started as he knew it must have been a real effort on his brother's behalf to say those words, "but we're a package deal. We make the decision together, and the people you're asking us to join, Carol has a history with them. I'll follow her lead. I will not try to persuade her."

"But Daryl, that's your brother…" Carol said, bewildered.

"Yeah. And I've missed him like the bitch he is," Daryl told her, lost in her eyes. "But we're a team. And you know the people we would be joining and if we do, I need you to be sure."

Lord knew he wanted to be with his brother again. Merle was an ass and more but he was his brother, and even though he had done a shit job at trying to protect his younger brother, he had tried. When he had opened up to Carol about his past, it had been one of the things he had realized. Maybe he had always known it, but to say those things out loud had made that truth unescapable. For all his faults and his qualities, Merle had tried, had loved his brother and had never wanted for him the things he had had to suffer himself.

"Okay," Merle said. "I get it. The new Mrs. Dixon will have the last word."

"We will both have the last word," Carol said, putting a hand on Merle's. "Whatever we decide will not be a slight to you. It will be about doing what's best for us."

"Being in a group of people sounds like the best place to be during the apocalypse, but what do I know?" Merle said, before going back to the fire.

Daryl and Carol didn't speak after that. Without a word, exhausted after the craziest day so far, they settled on the floor, as all their camping equipment had been lost at Terminus, except for the weapon she had gotten back. They didn't sleep back to back, for once, and were facing one another. He didn't know how long he spent looking at her face, as she fought against sleep until she gave up and let herself rest. All he knew was that her face was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and he could get used to this.

When morning came, Carol woke up before Daryl, and tried to make her way out of the house, walking carefully across the basement, avoiding people who had set up here and there to sleep. She stopped when she saw Carl and Judith sleeping so close to one another. Rick was there too, and Judith was sandwiched between the two men. This was where she belonged, Carol thought, doing her best not to acknowledge the pinching in her heart, that made her want to take the baby and keep it safe. It was not her place. She loved that kid, oh yes she did, but this was not her place.

"They look peaceful," she heard behind her, and she was surprised to see Michonne with her sword, watching the family sleeping.

"Come on, we can go upstairs. I want some coffee," the woman said, and Carol followed her.

The sun was barely up, but Carol's internal clock had known it was rising, knew it was time to move. It was habit, for sure, as Carol didn't know if she was to stay, or to go.

Michonne fixed them a quick brew of coffee, handing one cup to her as she kept one for herself. They didn't dare go out, didn't want the scent of food to bring in animals or worst. They sat at what had once been a kitchen table, and they watched out the window as the sun shone brighter and brighter.

"Thank you,' Michonne said, breaking the silence.

Carol didn't answer, because "yeah sure", sounded too casual, but she also didn't want to say more than was needed. She just wasn't sure what really was needed in the end.

"I know you heard our tales, last night, around the fire," Michonne said.

Carol brought the cup to her mouth in order to not have to answer.

"It must have been tough. Glenn talking about his quest for Maggie, and Rick and Carl talking about how they had looked for Judith, though we thought her to be dead. Sasha and Tyreese's quest for one another…"

"I get the picture, I was there," Carol snapped, as she remembered all those people looking for family members, and no one looking for her.

"What Rick did, when he left you out there…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She really didn't want to talk about it. She loved Michonne, still loved her even though she was not part of her family anymore, and she wanted nothing more than to see her make it through the apocalypse. Hell, if a fight erupted, she would probably be ready to give her life for the samurai to make it out alive. It shouldn't have hurt, knowing it was a one-way street feeling, but it still did. Carol reminded herself that you gave your love freely without expecting anything in return otherwise you cheapened everything, and she had given them, all of her family members her love, whether she had known them two years or two hours. She had decided in her heart who would be part of the people she was ready to die for. It was the end of days, you had to think of things that way. You had to know who you would leave behind, and who you would fight till your own death in order to give them a chance to make it.

"I never looked for you," Michonne said, and it felt like she had run her sword through Carol's heart.

"I don't mean it like that," the woman started again. "I never looked for you, because things were happening at the prison, and I knew that you had more lives than a cat. I knew that if there was one of us who could make it out there and survive, until the moment presented itself for that person to come back and be welcome back into the group, it was you. I didn't look but that doesn't mean I forgot about you. It only means I trusted you."

"Maybe I needed someone to look for me," Carol said. "Maybe I needed someone to tell me that Rick's sentence was not almighty. Maybe I needed someone to come and say that they knew I was not a villain."

She knew where this was coming from, those words she had only dared say to herself the first few hours after she had been exiled, when she had hoped though never really daring herself to really hope that someone would come back for her and tell her that Rick was full of shit and that was a matter to be decided at the prison. But no one had come, and she had been left with silence.

"I take it you heard our talk with Merle last night?" Carol said, forcing herself not to linger on what had never happened.

"I know it makes no difference, but after he had slept on it, Hershel pleaded your cause to Rick. He didn't tell anybody, and I didn't tell anybody but I heard him. He went back to Rick, and told him that he understood the decision he had taken, but that upon thinking about it, he wondered if he had been right. He talked about two guys they had killed after the barn incident, for no reasons, but to protect themselves, and how it had turned into a kidnapping later on, but that was not Hershel's point. What he said was that Rick, Glenn and he had killed two guys in a bar who wanted to join them on the farm. They didn't know they had people, and they couldn't explain why they made them feel threatened, but they killed them anyway when the others tried to kill them first. They had known. Hershel made a point about what you had done, about what they had done, and I'm no Hershel so I think a lot of it was lost on me, but his idea was that you felt threatened, and you felt the others were threatened, and you acted harshly. Hershel said something about the fact that they would never know if there could have been a way out of their encounter with the two guys that didn't end up in such a terrible way, but that still, they had killed in cold blood and had never had to face the consequences of their act. He said that in his opinion, you deserved to be heard out, or at least to be brought back, for people to decide, as a society, instead of a dictatorship."

"I'm sure Rick loved that comparison…" Carol said, trying to absorb the fact that the guy who had been seen as the ultimate judge of character in their community had pleaded for her to be brought back. She didn't think about the fact that it hadn't happened, she only thought about the fact that there had been a voice, in her favor.

"And yeah, I heard you talk to Merle. Guy is a dick. Please tell me the brother has some redeeming qualities otherwise I just won't understand why you're pairing up with him." Michonne said, lightly.

Carol thought about it, a light smile on her lips, though thinking that everything was being discussed too fast and she was given no time to process anything, but once again, it was the end of days, time was a luxury they didn't have.

"I've been part of that crowd, you know, that crowd who tells other people that this guy is a good guy when I know he isn't. When I was Ed's wife, and people asked me why I was with him when they could see fading bruises and more, and I'd tell them, "Ed's a good guy, he just has a temper". Like he was really a teddy bear at heart, but there was this devil on his shoulder who made him do those things to me. I've called a bad man a good guy for many many years. But now, I don't have to anymore. I don't have to hide what I was going through, and I surely do not have to hide my opinion on anybody when asked about them. Daryl, he's not a good guy, he's a good man. Quite possibly the best man I've ever encountered. He is good at heart and if there is a devil on his shoulder, he knows how to deal with it and not take it out on anybody else. He saved my life when it would have been so much easier for him to look the other way and let me die. I saved his life too, because I knew he deserved another day, another chance, another whatever. Daryl is a great man. He is private, and getting him to say something personal is more often than not like trying to teach a fish how to fly, but he is good, he is great. He has so many faults, but they're nothing compared to the goodness of his soul."

Michonne gave her a side look, and took a deep breath.

"You know when I knew you were golden?" she suddenly said.

Carol shook her head no, not quite sure she was understanding what the woman meant.

"Sophia. And Penny. I was out of Woodbury, and I was not part of your group, wasn't even sure I would fit in ever. When I'd sleep, people would talk. Beth kept on telling Judith things that were completely inappropriate for a baby, but maybe it was her way of dealing with the situation. She told the baby about your daughter and the way you killed her when she came back. I had just seen the Governor keep his pet daughter on a leash, knowing she was a danger not only to him but to everybody else. You took a gun and ended the pseudo life of the person you had loved the most while he was playing house with his flesh-eating zombie of a daughter. It was night and day."

The woman didn't add another word, letting Carol connect the dots and it felt so weird and terrible to be praised for having ended her daughter's suffering, but at the same time, Sophia had been gone. She had known that. The Governor had not wanted to acknowledge that Penny had been gone too.

"Thing is, we all made mistakes. We all made good decisions too. There's no reason why the former should be the thing we judge each other on. Rick may not think about it too often, but I remember when he had been willing to give me up to the Governor. He didn't in the end, but we both know that's not his only bad decision. We also know he made several good decisions. If we judge him based on the times he was right, then we should all have the same benefit of the doubt."

"What you're going at Michonne?" Carol asked, feeling exhausted.

"Just saying I want you to stay, with that Dixon guy of yours. You belong with us. I know I'm just someone who came in later in the life of the group, but I could see it then and I can see it now. I'm sure I'm not the only one. So if push comes to shove, I hope you'll stay."

"I liked you better when you just tried to kill people with a stare," Carol said jokingly though she wanted to say more than that.

"I still do that. For some reason, Merle just won't drop dead. Must be something wrong with my stare these days."

Carol chuckled, and she went back to her coffee, extremely aware that she needed to make a decision, and she needed to be sure, but more importantly, that she had very little time.

Daryl had woken up when Carol had slipped out of their "bed" for lack of a better word. His instinct had been to follow her, to go with her, not because it was his old pattern, but because he needed to know she was okay. She hadn't slept evenly that night, and she had woken him several times when having bad dreams. She had not made a sound, and he supposed it was some sort of habit she had gotten when with Ed, to keep silent even when she wanted to shout. He wished she had shouted, though it would have woken up everybody. He had only been able to put his arm or his hand on hers and rub it gently. He had wanted to say something, but words had escaped him, unsure what he should have said to bring her peace. He supposed it was a big step in itself, as the man he had been before would not have tried for fear of being overheard. The guy he was now hadn't dared because he hadn't known what to say. Small improvement. But an improvement nonetheless, Carol would have said.

He waited about ten minutes and he heard her go upstairs with the sword chick. He had gotten up then and gathered whatever was left of their stuff. He didn't know if they would be leaving or staying, he only knew that for once in his life, his path was clear. It was not a road with a pin where the end of the path was, it was with somebody. He would go where Carol would go, and hope he would get to see his brother again. He felt reassured at the way his brother seemed to have merged in that group. If they were to part ways again, at least Merle would be in good company.

He walked slowly across the room, and stopped in the same place where Carol had, seeing the baby she had been so worried about.

As if to make things weird, the baby woke up, and looked at him, before gurgling something and extending her chubby little arms his way.

He was about to run away, yes Sir, and he would have had no qualms about bailing on a baby, but the kid, Carl, chuckled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Merle said something about the Dixons' charm, must have been onto something… She wants you to take her in your arms."

Daryl had never in his life felt more like a deer surrounded by a dozen hunters with canons pointed at his head.

The others were waking up, and he was painfully aware he had an audience. Running away was not an option anymore. Slowly, he bent down on one knee, and listening to Carl who was telling him how to cradle her, Daryl put his big hands around little Judith and carried her until she was against his chest.

What an odd feeling. She didn't know him, had never seen him, yet she was making cooing noises and touching his face like he was one of her toys.

"That's my nose, missy," he found himself saying as the baby hazarded a finger too close to his nostrils. "I strongly suggest you aim for something else."

So she punched him in the cheek.

He heard Lazarus – Rick – laugh, saying something about his daughter avenging her dad. Daryl would have argued back except he was enthralled by this little creature in his arms. She had long eyelashes, and if those were any indications, she would be a heartbreaker when she'd grow up.

"What was it, about Merle?" Daryl asked the kid.

His brother seemed to appear out of thin air and said:

"When I was trying to have them let me in and take me in, they were not convinced. Judith was and she was pretty vocal about it."

"All we saw was a thug who was probably nothing less than a wolf in wolves clothing, but she saw a teddy bear, and she wouldn't stop crying until we handed her over to him. Scariest moment in my life," Rick said.

"I wouldn't have hurt her, she's my girl" Merle said, looking at his brother and the baby.

"She's got good taste, that's all," Daryl said as he moved the little girl around so that she was on his knee and he could make her gently bounce up and down.

"You're a natural," Rick said.

"He was a natural when it came to how you made them, before the world went to shit," Merle joked.

"Maybe one day, Judith will have a little boy or a little girl to play with, if you and Carol feel so inclined."

Daryl focused all his attention on the little girl, not wanting to give anything away about his relationship with Carol. They were so not there. Though trying to make a baby, well, he would be a liar if the baby making process hadn't crossed his mind, once or twice.

"You're assuming we're staying," he told Lazarus.

"I hope you are. Carol is a wonderful woman, and she likes you. It would only make sense for you to stay with her."

"You've got the whole thing wrong, Lazarus," Daryl said, before handing Judith to his brother. "When I say that you're assuming we're staying, I'm not using the royal we or whatever. I mean Carol and I. She hasn't decided yet, and where she goes, I go. It's a no brainer."

For the first time since he had met him, Lazarus seemed to let down his façade, and what was underneath was a very tired man, who didn't seem to really know what was keeping him alive, except for his kids.

"What happened with Carol… It seemed like the best decision at the time. I hope she will understand that and that we can move on."

"Sure, I'll toss your ass in the middle of a walker infested zone, without letting you say goodbye to any of the people you love, and when you come back, if you come back, we'll see if you understand and if we can, you know, move on," Daryl snarled.

"You were not there…" Rick started.

"But I was," came a feminine voice, interrupting them.

Daryl realized he had been getting himself ready to fight Lazarus again, but Maggie's interruption made him go back to a more neutral position.

"Actually, I was not there, not when the banning happened," Maggie started again. "But I was part of this group back then, and I let it happen. You say you want Carol back, Rick, and I believe you. I want her back to. Chances are Glenn and I'll be splitting from this group to go with Abe and the rest to Washington D.C but Lord, I want Carol back. When you came back and you told us she had killed Karen and David and thus you had exiled her, I didn't argue back. I didn't like it, I never liked it, but I never dared say anything. I suppose it was simpler to keep my mouth shut and let the leader decide. If it was happening all over again, I wouldn't stay idle, or I hope I wouldn't. You left Carol to die. You told her that she couldn't make decisions for the group then you made a decision for the group and told her to pack her bags, like it was some reality show."

"Maggie…"

"Shut up Rick, I'm talking. I'm not saying that back then I understood why Carol had done what she had done, but now I've got hindsight. Yesterday, on her own, Carol came into the Terminus camp, to save this man, Daryl, and perhaps to save us all too. Maybe it was always in her plans, maybe it happened as she went along, but she didn't free just one man, she saved us all. On her own," the woman said, stressing out the words. "Am I the only one seeing how crazy that is? Yet, it is the epitome of Carol. Carol does what needs to be done to keep us safe. She fed us, did our laundry, cut some throats, killed walkers, learnt skills… She did it all, not to save herself, but to be an asset to this group. Yesterday, she infiltrated a cannibal camp, and saved us, never taking into account the risk for herself. So yeah, now, I see things and I don't want to shut my eyes and pretend I am blind. Killing David and Karen was a bad move, but it came from a good place. I'm sure Carol thought it was the only solution to prevent the flu, but didn't want anybody to have that blood on their hands, so she sacrificed herself and did it herself. Was it good? Fuck no. But it doesn't deserve to be judged on its own, there's a whole picture we need to take into account when we make a decision. Yeah, because it should have been our decision, and not yours, but that's another issue, we should have made it clear that the moment the council started existing there was no more place for individual sentencing."

Daryl kept silent, the words the woman was saying being music to his ears. At least, someone understood, or wanted to. At least, someone made it clear why they should want Carol back, and why they needed to let her come back, not make her feel like she had to period. They had done her wrong, and she had forgiven them every time. Now that they were reunited, Carol had to decide if her forgiveness allowed them to travel together again, or if this was goodbye and closure on a painful moment in her life.

"So yeah, I want Carol back, even for ten minutes before I leave for D.C. If you're lucky enough and she goes with you guys, then you'd better be ready to make a heartfelt apology. I know I am," Maggie finished, looking in trance.

She took the stairs and got to the kitchen, where they heard muted voices. Daryl moved around as the door to the house opened, and he found a window, where he saw his woman walking side by side with Maggie. They didn't go far, and when Maggie made gestures for Carol to sit down, Daryl decided to give them their privacy.

"Maggie's not wrong," Carl said.

"I know, son. I know," Lazarus – Rick – said, defeated.

They spoke for what felt like hours but it couldn't have been that long. Maggie cried on her shoulders, saying it had been so much easier to believe Rick had done what was right when she hadn't been faced with the woman he had condemned to die, a woman she loved so much.

"It's fear, it's fucking fear. We were all cowering behind Rick, because he spoke out loud and made us feel like there was someone who knew better," Maggie said.

And she said she was sorry, before weeping.

They discussed many things, Carol's exile, Beth's death, Merle's arrival and more. They discussed what was next for the people in the house.

"I know it's none of my business, but I hope you will stay." Maggie finally said, before going back to the house.

Carol stayed under a tree for a long time, trying to think about what Michonne had said, and Maggie's speech. She also thought about Tyreese's forgiveness and she wondered how she fitted in in all of these.

Daryl tried to be discrete but she was too attuned to him and she heard him come a mile away, or so it felt. He stayed close, not too far from the rock where she was sitting yet giving her the space he thought she needed.

Truth be told, she would have welcomed his shoulder to rest her head. When she was in his arms, things didn't spin so fast around her, and her thoughts too focused on him gave her a respite from all that was plaguing her.

She thought about all those people she loved, still loved, no matter what had happened. She thought about Rick and wondered what was in store for them. Merle seemed to be a strangely calming influence on him, as he dared speak up and call him on his shit, if Maggie was to be believed.

Carol patted the space next to her and Daryl quickly sat down. When her forehead hit his shoulder, she was in heaven and she kept silent. He felt like home. Wherever he was was where she wanted to be, but he was letting her chose whether or not to join her old group again. However she kept saying of this old story, about a woman who became a pillar of salt when she looked back to her past, and she wondered if that could in store for her. Was the past a solution, or just a longing she felt? Could she see past Rick's betrayal? Maggie's words… They had been so heartfelt, so sincere… There had been no condemnation for what she had done, only a plea for her not to take it upon herself to save all their souls and take the blame on herself. Did she really do that? She wondered.

She thought about Judith, and how wonderful she felt with the baby in her arms. She thought about Carl who had been just a boy and had turned into a teen almost too quickly. She supposed his childhood had ended the moment he had had to put a bullet in his mother's head.

Grief had bounded them together, as well as hope for a better future. She still felt those. She still wanted something better for Judith, and maybe a chance at a better life for Carl. She wanted Maggie and Glenn to be free to have babies, and not wonder or worry.

After all this time, and all that pain, it seemed that they were all profoundly anchored in her soul.

She wanted Michonne to live. She hoped that Rick would be able to grieve and see what a wonderful woman he had in front of him, a woman who loved his children like they were her own. She wanted them all to be happy.

She took Daryl's hand, and they both got up, walking back toward the house. No words were necessary.

When they got in, everyone was in the cramped kitchen, and Carol cleared her throat once, commanding everyone's attention.

"We would like to travel with you guys again," she said, "but I don't want my past actions to be a Damocles' sword hanging over our head. If you don't want me back, please say so, and we will go our own way, no hard feelings."

She looked serene, but inside, she was shaking like a leaf, waiting to see if anyone would speak up or raise a hand. A full minute went by, then Merle yelled out happily:

"My little brother is back!"

"Fuck off, Merle", Daryl said, not thinking it one bit.

"You've come a long way since the quarry," Glenn told Daryl, and Carol thought that there would never be a stronger truth than that.

"So have you kid," Daryl finally said. "I thought it was a myth, but looking at you I see it's true. When you lose your virginity, it shows," he joked gesturing to Glenn's face.

"Hardy har har."

The group laughed then started talking destinations, and when to split up.

"You're sure?" Daryl asked her, in a whisper, but she could see that if she just gave him the vaguest hint, he was ready to pack their bags and get them far away from this.

"I'm sure. We'll make it work. Together."

"Am going to enjoy making Lazarus pay," he said with a grin.

And she laughed, before kissing his cheek happily.

 **THE END**

 **Many thanks to all of who've read and reviewed this story, I will miss it!**


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